The Way Things Seem
by PersonifyThis
Summary: Francis and Arthur surprise their sons with a family vacation to Mexico. However, their family holiday goes horribly wrong when Alfred and Matthew are kidnapped during the trip. The boys will do anything it takes to get home again. Sequel to The Way Things Are. FrUk
1. Money

A school bell rang and swarms of preteens flooded out of the large brick building. Yellow school buses were lined up in the parking lot. In a crowded hallway, a blond boy with glasses slung his backpack over his shoulder and pushed his way out to the back athletic fields. Two floors down, a second blond boy slipped into the art room.

Matthew plopped his backpack down on the desk. The studio was hushed. The noises from the other kids barely touched the calm inside the room. Mattie wasn't the only one in art club usually, but this week the flu had been going around so a lot of the members were out.

"Just you today Matthew?" Mr. Germania asked.

Matthew nodded, "Finn, Tyler and Mei have the flu. And Jack has rugby practice. Liam might come in though."

Mr. Germania smiled, "a quiet day then."

Mattie nodded and pulled out his biology book. Jack and his brother, Liam, were both in his troop. Liam had aged out of cub scouts last year and had joined their troop. Both boys were really cool.

For as long as Mattie had known Jack he was a total adrenaline junkie and even though their was a rugby team at the school, Jack decided he needed another extracurricular ("to make him well rounded") so the first day of sixth grade, he'd join art club. Three years later when Liam started sixth grade, he'd joined also.

He wanted sometime to work on a project for boy scouts without everyone around asking him about it. It was cool to be in scouts in elementary school and even the first year of middle school, but now as an eight grader... not so much. He pulled a book of paper from a wooden cubby in the corner of the room. Matthew had been working towards both his plant science and forestry badges for a while now. The blond boy had seen all the overlap between the two and figured he'd kill two birds with one stone.

Last fall, Matthew had finished the field work so now he only had the drawings and labeling left. To save himself from constantly looking for two books he'd put all his work in one big book. The first half was for forestry and the second was for plant science.

He shook his biology book upside down and, from between the pages, out fell several bags of dried leaves and flowers. At the top of each bag was a piece of masking tape which labeled each one. The boy set out the bags on top of the other desks.

The first pages were filled of detailed drawings of different trees. Each page had the tree drawn in the middle of the page and his descriptions and explanations curling around it. It was coming out really cool.

"Hi Matt!" chirped Liam as he stumbled into the room. He had a frisbee tucked under one arm.

Matthew looked up from organizing his plants and smiled, "Hey!"

The boy set down his stuff with a clatter and trotted over to the corner to grab his clay. He'd been working on some strange sculpture thing for a while now. Matthew had no idea what it was suppose to be but the smaller boy was very excited with it.

The pages of his notebook were scraggly from constantly being flipped through. A quarter of the way through he found a clean piece of paper. He pulled out his little black field book and in clean lines labeled at the top, Beach-Pea, Lathyrus maritimus.

"What are you doing?" Liam asked. Matthew looked over, his hands were already covered in a layer of brown clay.

"I'm doing the forestry and plant science badges for Scouts."

"Oh," the younger boy said as he looked closer, "Jack did the forestry one. It's really hard!"

Mattie nodded, "Yeah, I remember when he got it. He helped me find a good sight to look up different plants."

The two chatted as they worked about the next badge ceremony and Liam's dog care badge. Mattie pulled the pencil across the page and the image of the beach-pea was pulled out of the white paper. Dark, thick lines of the stem spanned the page diagonally. He drew a small line and labeled the different properties in his looping hand writing. If he ever wanted to some day he could live off the land.

* * *

The day was glowing with afternoon sunshine. The stainless steel appliances bounced the light around the kitchen making everything shine. A pan was sitting on the stove. There were bits of burnt cheese still stuck on the sides. Francis and Arthur had eaten grilled cheese for lunch. It was the one day of the week Francis came home for lunch. The two cherished the alone time.

However, today a third man was at their kitchen table. They sat across from the well dressed man at their wooden kitchen table. The man had dark, slicked hair and a purple tie.

"He's dead?" Francis questioned.

"Yes," the lawyer replied seriously, "a heart attack."

The two blond men looked at each other. Neither wanted to grin at the news, but both were glad that bastard wouldn't be able to stick his nose into their family anymore. The occasional birthday card and phone calls were enough to put Alfred in a bad mood for weeks.

"Well we appreciate you coming all the way out here to inform us of that Mr. Phillips," Arthur said, standing.

The lawyer didn't rise from his seat though. Instead Mr. Phillips opened his leather briefcase.

"Unfortunately that is not the only reason for my presence here today gentlemen," he said.

The fathers shared another look and Arthur felt Francis' hand slip into his. Questions started flashing through Arthur's head. The most frequent was if this somehow effect the legality of Alfred's adoption?

"_Oui_," Francis murmured, "We are listening."

"When Mr. Jones died he did not have a will," Mr. Phillips began, "In such instances, inheritance is passed to the next of kin."

Arthur's eyes widened and Francis's grip around his hand tightened. Vaguely Arthur noticed the clock chiming for one o'clock. Francis had to get back to work soon.

Mr. Phillips took a breath and began to explain, "Even though Alfred was adopted, he is still by blood Mr. Jones's next of kin. Therefore, Mr. Jones's life insurance benefits and worldly possessions are to be given solely to one Mr. Alfred F. Jones."

Arthur's palm started to sweat. He was oddly concerned that, almost more so than what Mr. Phillips had just told them. He knew the negative repercussion this would have on Alfred, but his emotions seemed to be elsewhere.

A strong wind blew outside. Mr. Phillips pulled several sheets of paper from his briefcase. Arthur stared down at them. The first was a death certificate, the second was filled with numbers and the third was a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo. The swaying trees threw shadows across the papers.

Arthur wanted to blame the dancing shadows for the reason he was seeing so many zeros.

Mr. Phillips cleared his throat, "Since Alfred is not an adult, you will be responsible for managing his inheritance and insurance benefits until he comes of age."

Mr. Phillips held a golden pen to them. It glinted in the sun.

"Will their be any ramifications on Alfred or our family for accepting this?" Arthur asked skeptical and slightly dazed by the sheer amount of money expressed on the page.

"Not at all," the lawyer smiled, "The younger Mr. Jones is entitled to all of this due to his father's unfortunate passing."

Arthur looked to Francis for his thoughts. Alfred disliked the thought of his father so to be given millions of dollars as a pay out for his death could be disastrous. Should they accept it? Should they tell him about it now or when he was older? Did lawyers usually seek out beneficiaries? Wasn't it better for the if no one came foreword to claim the money?

"If you could give us a moment," Francis said as he stood.

"Of course," Mr. Phillips waved at them. The lawyer pulled a small iphone from his pocket and began punching buttons. The fathers moved into the living room.

"I don't know," Arthur whispered, "this all seems a little too good to be true. Doesn't it?"

Francis shrugged, "We did know that bastard was rich. It is," Francis smirked, "unfortunate that he has passed away so early in life, but that is neither here nor there since it has already happened."

Arthur punched Francis in the shoulder. The Frenchmen just chuckled and continued on, "Besides who are we to turn away Mr. Jones's generosity... Even if it only came in death?"

Arthur sighed and rubbed a hand across his face, "I guess. It just seems a little far fetched to me... what will we tell Alfred?"

Francis pursed his lips, but almost instantly smoothed them out. Probably worried about wrinkles.

"We will tell him the truth." Francis said, rubbing his forehead, "That his father passed away and he was left the inheritance."

"So we're going to accept it?" Arthur muttered. All he could think of was Alfred's ninth birthday. When Alfred received at a birthday card with no return address. It's edges had been smudged with grease, "probably bought at a gas station," Alfred had muttered. Alfred was sad for days afterwards.

"I do see why not..." Francis replied.

Arthur bit his lip, but nodded. Together the men made their way back into the kitchen. They shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth... right? Mr. Phillips was looking intently at his phone when they walked in.

Before they reached the table Arthur stopped Francis, "What if Alfred hates it?" Arthur asked quickly before they had gotten back to the table. "He didn't like getting birthday cards from that bastard let alone millions of dollars."

Francis smiled, "Then he could give it away to a charity. Maybe one for neglected children."

Arthur smirked and slapped him lightly. Yes, that'd be quite fitting if Alfred didn't want the money.

* * *

The thick smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted through the house. The sound of his father's voices going back and forth drifted through the house. Alfred through his bags next to the door and moaned. Mattie pushed around him rolling his eyes.

"I hurt!" Alfred exclaimed to the air, "Everywhere hurts. My legs hurt, my arms hurt, even my teeth hurt!"

"Don't be such a baby," Matthew smirked as he headed towards the kitchen.

"Baby?! I'm not a baby!" Alfred exclaimed. The boy pulled off his shoes and ran after his brother. "C'mere and I'll show you baby!"

Mattie laughed and dodged him. Alfred chased him into the kitchen. The shouted, "no running in the house!" was ignored.

They went around and around the island. Alfred almost wiped out on the corner and Matthew slowed down to look. Alfred had rushed foreword and he'd nearly caught the devil but Mattie slid between their fathers at the last minute.

Mattie threw his arms around their Papa, "_Salut_!" Mattie exclaimed. Papa laughed and hugged Mattie back, "_Salut cher."_

"No fair!" Alfred said, trying to reach around his tall father to get his brother. Dad snorted and Alfred looked over to glare at him when two arms clamped around him.

"What? No hug for me _petit_?" Papa said. Chuckling, he rocked Alfred in his arms with Mattie giggling behind him.

Alfred moaned again, "You're all crazy."

The football player finally pulled himself from his father's arms and tilted his head, "Papa, why're ya home so early anyway?"

"I was thinking we could have tea and biscuits and talk," Dad interjected, "Your father made chocolate-chocolate chip."

Dad waved to the plate of cookies on the table. There were glasses for milk and saucers for tea sitting next to the plate. Alfred and Matthew looked at each other. That was their favorite cookie and usually was reserved for special occasions.

"Sure," Matthew smiled, "that's cool."

"Yeah, as long as I don't have to drink tea."

Dad rolled his eyes, "No, you don't have to _have_ tea."

"Great! Then let's get to the cookies!" Alfred cheered dashing towards the table. Dad took a deep breath and Alfred smiled. It was good to be home.

* * *

The dark seemed to swallow up all the light. The glow-in-the-dark star stickers that had once given Alfred such comfort had long been pulled down from the ceiling. His brother's breathing was soft and even. He probably was asleep.

"Mattie?"

But Alfred wanted to talk.

"Mattie!" He whispered louder.

Their was no response from the other side of the room. Alfred looked at all the empty space between their beds. It was plenty of space for a monster to be hiding. He shook his head. No, monsters weren't real. Even though Kiku told him a really scary ghost story last weekend... Alfred shook his head, but that was just a story.

Alfred took a deep breath. He pulled one foot out from the covers then in three great leaps he bounded into Matthew's bed. A soft oof came from the other boy.

"Mattie, let me in, let me in!" Alfred scrambled to get his feet under the covers so the monsters couldn't get him.

"Alfred! Your feet are cold!" Matthew exclaimed. He pushed at his brother trying to make more room in the bed.

"Lemme in," Alfred whined smushing his body between his brother's and the wall.

Alfred wiggled his body under the covers and smiled. He laid his head down on his brother's pillow. Mattie stared down at him. His face kind of looked like Papa's when Dad cooked.

"Why are you in my bed?" Mattie demanded.

"I wanna talk to you," Alfred mumbled, cuddling the pillow.

Matthew ripped his pillow out from Alfred's head, "In the middle of the night?!"

Alfred shrugged and tugged on Mattie so he'd lay back down. If the monsters came Mattie was going to be seen sitting up like that.

Mattie finally did and Alfred wrapped his arms around him. The two were quiet for a moment then Matthew nudged Alfred with his elbow. The adopted boy couldn't choke out the words right away though. He took a deep breath. He needed to know.

"I'm not sad that my father died," Alfred whispered into the darkness.

"Oh," Matthew sighed.

Alfred was glad it was dark, "Does that make me a bad person?" His voice cracked.

"I don't think so..." Matthew whispered, "It definitely doesn't make you a bad person to me. I'm not sure I'm sad either."

A late night car rumbled past the house. The light lit up the bedroom for a moment. A basket of folded laundry sat by the closet reminding Alfred that he had to put it away in the morning or face Dad's wrath.

Alfred sighed, "I get sad when puppies die though."

"Duh," Matthew snorted, "that's because puppies are cute! You've got to be a psycho not to get sad when puppies die."

Alfred couldn't see it but he could feel Matthew rolling his eyes. He hummed and the two fell quiet again. After a minute went by Mattie pinched his brother's side.

"What?"

"Don't feel bad that you don't feel sad," Matthew said. "He was bad to you for a long time and he never tried to apologize or make it better."

Alfred nodded, "Papa took me painting."

Matthew made a confused sound and Alfred realized he'd lost his brother.

The blue eyed boy explained, "Before my father left Papa hit him. Then he left and never came back. But after that Papa took me to a painting class."

Mattie hummed in agreement and Alfred continued, "I think it was him trying to apologize for hitting my father or him leaving... I'm not sure. But back then I was positive that Papa hitting my father was the reason he'd left. So I think he took me painting to try and apologize."

Matthew's eyes went wide, "I've always wondered why you guys took that painting class! You didn't even like painting!"

Alfred laughed, "I know! But I did get to meet Kiku and that was awesome."

Matthew face looked like the morning, "it all makes sense now."

"Yeah so Papa apologized even though he really didn't have to..." Alfred sighed. The words 'but my real father never did' hung in the air like fog.

The conversation fizzled out like flat soda. Alfred wanted to say more, but wasn't sure what to. Really he just wanted to feel better, not so sad-about-not-being-sad and angry-because-he-wasn't-sad, and he'd hoped Matthew could make him feel better. But he didn't seem to know what to say either.

Alfred lay still in the bed, trying not to wiggle around to much. He liked to sleep on his belly, but was on his back. His leg twitched and he winced hoping it didn't wake Mattie. Even his breathing felt too loud in the stillness.

"Al, just get comfortable so we can sleep," Mattie whispered. Alfred grinned at his brother and rolled on to his stomach. The wooden bed creaked loudly. Alfred threw an arm over Mattie's stomach and tucked his head under Mattie's chin. The two fell asleep wrapped around each other.


	2. Mexico

The Post Road Diner was a 1950's themed diner. Old posters hung on the walls depicting Tom and Jerry, Grease and original coca-cola ads. All the waitresses wore black and pink styled uniforms with their names written in curly letters. The best part about the diner was it served everything! Salads, burgers, omelets, milk shakes, clubs, pancakes, chicken wings, pizza, gyros... it was one of the few places that Mattie could get pancakes and Alfred could get a burger at the same time. Therefore, it was the Bonnefoy-Kirkland's favorite restaurant.

On Sunday morning, when other families were at church or sleeping in the Bonnefoy-Kirklands were sitting at their usual booth in the back of the Post Road Diner. Arthur had tea, Francis had coffee, Matthew had a Maple soda and Alfred had a chocolate shake.

Alfred pointed a long spoon at his brother, "I don't understand how you can drink that stuff!" he teased.

Mattie just smiled around his straw. It was heaven in a glass that's how. Vanilla ice cream, club soda and real maple syrup blended into one delicious Beverage of Amazement.

"Alfred, lay off your brother," Dad said from across the table.

"But Dad," Alfred whined.

"Please listen to your father _petit_," Papa repeated. Alfred crossed his arms and pouted. He stared up at a neon 7-Up poster. Matthew just shifted in his seat, focusing on his drink.

"So what is everyone having for breakfast?" Dad broke the silence.

The table next to them was digging into heaping plates of pancakes, Mattie's favorite. But their perfect golden brown pancakes had dark purple smudges on them. An old man cut into it, put a piece in his mouth and moaned. Mattie's mouth watered. He had to try those pancakes! Mattie blinked and turned his attention back to his table.

"I'm having _blueberry_ pancakes!" He declared.

There came a series of 'oohs' from around the table. A girl sitting at a booth across from theirs turned to look at them.

Alfred let his spoon fall back into his shake with a metallic thunk, "You're changing your order?" he gasped.

Matthew nodded, "yup!"

"I'm not!" Alfred exclaimed, "We don't have to right?"

"No, you don't have to," Dad chuckled, "I'm not."

"Maybe I should try something new as well?" Papa murmured, looking down at the unopened menu.

"Nooo Papaaa!" Alfred cried, "Don't do it!"

"Go for it!" Matthew cheered.

Papa plucked up the menu and flipped through the pages quickly, "Yes, I believe I will have the cinnamon raisin French toast."

Alfred groaned and turned to Dad, "We've lost them. They've gone over to the dark side."

The table burst into laughter and when Mandy, their usual waitress, came she was equally stunned not to hear "the usual" coming from all of their mouths.

After their orders had been given Papa and Dad turned to them with serious looks on their faces. Alfred gulped and Mattie wiped his palms across his jeans. Had the report cards come? Had the hockey coach finally told them about the fighting? Had Alfred saran wrapped the toilet again?

"We have something we need to talk to you about," Dad said. Mattie could feel his heart in his throat. April break was coming up soon. He didn't want to be grounded!

Both men stared at them for a moment before a grin broke across Papa's face.

"We're going to Mexico!" Papa gushed.

First a whoosh of relief went through him and then excitement. They were going on vacation!

"That's awesome! Boo-yah!" Mattie exclaimed. They hadn't really gone on any big vacations since Alfred had come to live with them. Sure they'd gone to the Carolinas and Florida but nothing international. He turned to his brother to see his reaction.

Alfred was biting his lip, "so we're leaving the country?"

Papa nodded, "_Oui_, we'll be staying at a resort in Cancun. Just imagine Florida, but with Mayan ruins to explore."

Alfred put on a wobbly smile that didn't fool anyone, "Awesome! That'll be great."

"It will be love, I promise." Dad reached across the table for Alfred's hand. The younger boy blushed but didn't pull away. Matthew chewed on his lip. For all of Alfred's bravo he really was... delicate about certain things

Dad continued on, "And they'll be lots of pools and you can go snorkeling in the ocean. Plus, there are _fourteen_ waterslides."

"Really? Fourteen?" Alfred puzzled. His head tilted like a confused puppy. It made Mattie giggle under his breath.

Dad nodded.

"And there is a bar in the_ pool_ where you can get all the drinks you want to," Papa added, "For free."

"No way," Alfred breathed as a smile began to stretch across his face.

"_Oui_ way," Papa said and it was so silly that Alfred cracked a grin.

"Ok," Alfred smiled, "it might be cool."

Mandy arrived with her arms full of plates. A warm stack of melty, delicious pancakes were set down in front of him. He was in the middle of slathering maple syrup on them when he realized that Alfred was only playing with his French fries instead of devouring them.

Mattie kicked his foot under the table. When the other boy looked up at him he quietly muttered, "waterslides."

"Waterslides," Alfred repeated slowly. The thought of free soda and over a dozen waterslides finally seemed to sink into his head, "Dude, we're going to Mexico!" Alfred cheered.

His brother threw his arms around Matthew and all the breath was wrung out of him as Alfred frantically jerked him back and forth. He's such a spazz Mattie thought as he rolled his eyes in his brother's grip.

When Alfred released him he dug into his food with gusto. Matthew took a deep breath and picked up his utensils. The grin was stuck to his face. They were going to Mexico for vacation. Trying not to bounce in his seat, Matthew dug in to his food.

* * *

Fridays were Alfred and Kiku's weekly video game smash. They'd play as many games as they could before they passed out in the living room surrounded by soda cans and chip bags.

Papa and Dad only let caffeine-free soda and baked chips in the house, but as far as Alfred was concerned that was better than nothing. The two friends laid on their stomachs on the floor in front of the television. They were shooting zombies and talking about Alfred's trip to Mexico.

"I'd worry about sun burn," Kiku said as he blew a zombie apart, "Put on sun tan lotion even if you feel stupid."

Alfred moaned, "I'd rather burn."

Kiku hurled a pillow at his head.

"Well that escalated quickly," Alfred quipped. His character beheaded an old man zombie. The zombie had a long beard that got chopped in half when Alfred took his head off. The blond boy made a face and took a swing of soda one handed. He let out a loud burp. Kiku snorted.

"What?" Alfred asked, fingers flying across the buttons.

The dark haired boy peered over at him, took a breath and opened his mouth... out was a monstrous burp! The deep sound lasted several seconds and once it was ended the sound seemed to echo.

Both boys stared at each other for a moment, "Oh my god!" Alfred cackled in hysterics, "Dude! Have you been holding that in for years or something? Where did all that come from?!"

Alfred clutched at his side. An explosion lit up the screen but neither boy noticed. Alfred was pounding the floor in laughter and Kiku was silently laughing, breathless with tears streaming down his face.

Mattie wandered in to, "make sure you're not going to choke yourself from laughing so much," which sent them off into hysterics again.

When Alfred could breathe again he said, "You rock man."

"Thank you," Kiku grinned, "I try."

With an occasion snort of laughter, they started playing again. Both boys were grinning at the screen as they battled zombies in a forest.

Alfred spoke up suddenly, "Man, it'd just suck if the plane went down half way there! Or if I got lost and couldn't speak to anyone 'cause they all speak Spanish." Alfred whined as he slashed a zombie and kept running.

Fog rolled across the screen making it difficult for the boys to see their enemies. Kiku got mauled by one before he took a flame thrower out.

"Yeah that'd be unfortunate, but the chances of your plane going down are nine million to one. So I wouldn't worry. You're more likely to get in a car crash."

The orange glow of Kiku torching the rotting people blazed on his half of the screen.

"Gee thanks man," Alfred laughed. He copied the other boy's weapon change. The zombies weren't dropping dead, like they were when they were beheaded, but at least their characters weren't being eaten.

"I could get some movies about travel if you'd like," the Japanese boy suggested. His character jumped into a tree to avoid a zombie.

"If you want to then I would," Alfred replied, shrugged, "movie marathons are always fun."

The two characters were slashing and burning following the compass in the upper right corner pointing them north. North was safety. It was too cold for the zombies to live there.

"I'll bring them over this weekend then," Kiku said.

Alfred nodded as his fingers pressed several keys frantically.

The fog lifted and the big dipper shone brilliantly on the screen. Alfred and Kiku had made it out of the forest and into the next level. Alfred punched the air and whooped.

* * *

Matthew sighed. It was Alfred's movie marathon night. Kiku had come over with a backpack filled with dvds and junk food. Matthew didn't know how he'd gotten dragged into this event, but he was less than excited.

He wasn't worried about going to Mexico like Alfred was. He didn't need to spend his Saturday watching travel themed movies. He rolled his eyes, the things he did for his brother...

He sighed again; at least he could work on his badges while watching.

"Movie marathon!" Alfred yelled jumping around the room. Mattie stared at him from his spot on the stairs.

Kiku was kneeling next to the coffee table. Matthew peered in between the banisters. Spread out on the coffee table was Up, all the James Bond movies, all the Indiana Jones movies, The Bucket List, and one he'd never heard of called The Motorcycle Diaries. He didn't think Alfred and Kiku would try to watch all of them, but even if they got through half... that meant it was going to be a long night.

"Come down Mattie! Movies, movies, movies!" Alfred yipped, prancing back and forth between the kitchen and living room. He'd stocked up a bunch of contraband junk food for the movie night. Doritos, cheetos, twizzlers and kit-kats appeared and were torn open hastily.

Alfred waved two in his direction before chomping them up. Matthew's mouth watered. He loved twizzlers. Alfred wasn't the type to manipulate people, but Matthew was sure he was just doing this to get him to come downstairs.

His brother grabbed another handful. Mattie grimaced, at that rate the bag would be gone before the movie had even started.

"Fine!" Matthew exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. He stomped down the rest of the stairs. Alfred whooped and Kiku smiled. He grabbed the bag of twizzlers from Alfred as he plopped on the floor.

The doorbell chimed and Alfred went sliding across the hardwood floors to answer it. Kiku pulled Up from its case.

Alfred enthusiastically greeted the deliverer. Matthew couldn't help but stare at the guy. He thought most pizza delivery guys were in high school and had lots of acne. This dude was a middle-aged guy with way too much scruff. His face was pulled into a frown. It made the scar peeking out from under the left side his baseball hat making it pucker up.

Alfred quickly gave him the money and grabbed the pizza box. When the door slammed shut Matthew breathed a sigh of relief, not sure why the guy had given him the creeps so badly. Alfred ripped open the box and shoved half a piece in his mouth. The marinara sauce wafted around the room. It smelled delicious.

"Do Dad and Papa know you ordered pizza?" Matthew asked.

Alfred shook his head no and Matthew sighed. Dad and Papa had gone to the "grocery store." Matthew really knew that meant to have a quickie in the car and, maybe if they remember, to also stop at a gas station for milk.

Apparently, Alfred wasn't expecting them home anytime soon.

"If we're gonna get in trouble for order a pizza please tell me you at least get stuffed crust?" Matthew groaned.

Alfred grinned and waved half a piece at him, "yup," he popped the p sound.

Matthew smacked his leg as he walked past. When Alfred set the pie down, Matthew grabbed a slice and bit into it, crust side first. He had to eat dinner some time.

"Oh sweet!" He praised.

The three boys settled into their spots as a flood of colorful balloons floated on to the screen with the words UP in big letters. Kiku was curled up on one corner of the couch, Alfred sprawled out on the other, and Mattie in a pillow nest on the floor.

He pulled his biology book, notebook and colored pencils from his bag. He shook the dried plants from his book. He was in the middle of drawing Sweetfern. As he was sharpening his pencil, he watched the little girl and boy grow into teens then young adults then adults.

Matthew put pencil to paper. One eye on his drawing, the other on the film. Half way through the movie and two illustrations later, Papa and Dad walked through the door with a yellow plastic bag.

"Hello!" Dad called.

Matthew looked up to greet them. He wished he couldn't see that Dad's hair was more ruffled than usual and that Papa had a bruise on his neck.

Matthew's gazed returned to his paper, and he waved without looking. He felt Papa pressed a kiss to his head and heard him ruffle Alfred's hair. One good them about them being so post-sex happy out was neither one seemed to care about the pizza or junk food.

Once they had disappeared into the kitchen, he was able to get back in the zone and get through four more illustrations.

As the credits rolled, Alfred asked Kiku and Matthew questions about actually floating a house by balloons, the chances of getting abducted by old men with talking dogs and where the other boys wanted to travel too. Matthew grabbed another slice of, now cold, pizza as he answered.

When Alfred's curiosity was sedated, Kiku popped another disc in and Matthew continued sketching. Dark lines broke across the page. His thumb rubbed against the smooth paper. Pointed leaves forming the image of the plant. Occasionally he'd glace up and the movie would have progressed. An image of a South American road, a motorcycle all passed without notice because Matthew was in the zone.

"But how did they _know_ he'd have lots of money!" Alfred demanded. Matthew glanced up to see Alfred waving his arms about. "He doesn't look like he'd have lots of money to me!"

Kiku was pointing at the screen, "It's the watch!" Kiku replied.

Matthew blinked and stilled his hand. Alfred seemed to know nothing about the rest of the world. He heard Kiku explain the difference between a wealthy first world person and a wealthy third world person in a daze. Alfred had wrapped a blanket around him at some point.

He'd started working on a sixth illustration, this one of poison ivy, with little more than a few thoughts. His hands were smudged and the pages were finished. He remembered drawing them but he'd been calm, quiet almost. This was why he loved art. It was like meditating with his hands.

The other two boys spoke about fitting into a place and dressing like the locals. Matthew half snorted when he realized Alfred was calling it poor people dress up. The sound of a motorcycle drifted behind his eyes and Mattie let his hands shade the vibrations into the poison ivy.

He couldn't wait to get these badges. He was going to know everything about plants and forestry after this. Who knows maybe when they were in Mexico he'd grab an extra illustration for the hell of it.


	3. Vacation

The stepped off the plane and into the sun. At least that's what it felt like to Alfred. The blue sky stretched out before them and it was hard for him to believe they were still on the same continent as Boston. The plane didn't let them off in the terminal, but onto the tarmac. Alfred hiked up his backpack and bound down the stairs taking them two at a time. Mattie followed right behind him, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Inside the airport the walls were salmon with posters of the beach stuck to the walls. The floors had piles of sand tucked into the corners. It smelled like jalapeno peppers from the food stalls lining the walls. A broken, 1970s air conditioner sat silently by customs.

The family made their way through customs successfully. Alfred admired the red Mexico stamp in his passport while Arthur and Francis finished getting their luggage. It felt like they'd run a marathon and had just reached the finish line.

"We made it!" Mattie cheered.

"Let's take a picture!" Papa burst out.

Alfred groaned and Mattie whipped his digital camera from his backpack. People were striding past them. A baby was getting its diaper changed in the corner. So far Mexico was nothing special.

"Do we have to?" Alfred whined. He just wanted to get to the resort. He couldn't wait to get on the waterslides.

"Please Alfred," Papa asked.

Alfred rolled his eyes but stood still for the picture. Right before the flash he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. His brother and father flipped the camera over to see how they looked. Papa and Dad grimaced while Mattie laughed.

"Alfred! You shouldn't make such faces!" Francis chided.

"Whatever," Alfred grumbled.

The group made their way out of baggage claim. Fat, white clouds were sliding across the sky. Trees with funny shaped leaves were guarding the airport. The dirt wasn't brown, but yellow... like sand. Alfred didn't think plants could grow in real sand but he'd have to ask Mattie. He was the plant genius.

"There's our car!" Dad said, nodding to a black town car. He spear headed the group as they made their way over. Alfred was starting to regret bringing so many things. His suitcase was wicked heavy.

"The Bonnefoy-Kirklands?" asked a dark haired driver.

Papa grinned, "_Oui!"_

He jauntily threw his suitcase in the trunk. Alfred dragged his suitcase over to the curb. Dad tossed in his luggage too. Alfred thought the driver was supposed to do that. He just stood to the side, watching.

"Come on boys," Dad said, "Get your bags in the boot!"

Dad had pulled off his sweater. He looked like he was ready to hit the beach. Alfred was jealous. His winter parka was sticking to his sweaty skin. When Papa had told him it'd be hot when they got off the plane Alfred had laughed. It was April, how hot could it be?

Alfred and Mattie pushed their suitcases in. Dad was on one side and Papa had gotten the front so he could stretch his legs out.

"You take the middle!" Alfred said, pushing Mattie towards the door.

"Nuh-uh, you take it," Mattie pushed back.

Dad sighed. "Boys," he warned. Alfred could see in the side mirror that Papa had pulled his sunglasses low so he could stare at them.

"You don't want Dad to get mad on the very first day of vacation. Do you?" Matthew asked.

Alfred grit his teeth but moved into the middle seat. Matthew smirked. The driver pulled them out onto the road. Alfred leaned across his brother to look out the window.

Everything looked... dry. There was grass, but it was short and wide. Spiky looking bushes curled around the ground. The houses they passed were painted white, orange, pink and lime green. Papa reached back and rubbed Dad's knee. Alfred grimaced. Dad didn't even smack him after like he usually would.

When they reached the resort, Alfred pushed himself into Dad's lap to look out the window. The Brit made a soft 'oof' sound. Tall palm trees reached for the sun. A semi-circle of water fountains shot water into the sky. Behind that was the hotel, made up of miles of glimmering glass. It looked like a golden glass castle. Above the lobby entrance was an awning that shaded people as they were coming and going.

"Whoa," Alfred breathed. Matthew was hanging over his shoulder.

"Glad you like it," Dad laughed from underneath him.

Alfred bounced and smacked his head on Mattie's chin as the car stopped.

"Oww," both boys moaned.

Mattie pulled away and rubbed his chin. Alfred and Matthew tumbled out of the car. Alfred shot over to a water fountain that was shooting water up and down. Small pebbles were at the bottom of the fountain. Alfred reached in and grabbed one. Matthew was poking around by the flowers.

"Boys!" Francis called in French, "Come on!"

Alfred pulled his hand out of the water and looked over to his father. Papa was standing by the door, glinting like the gold in the sun. His sunglasses were the only dark thing he was wearing. Everything else was khaki and white. Papa had tried to get him to wear a matching outfit. Alfred had tossed a football at him for suggesting such a thing.

Dad stormed over to Papa with both suitcases and announced his presence with a punch. Papa laughed and pulled him close. Dad turned bright red and pushed himself away. Alfred couldn't hear what they said to each other and even though Papa pinched Dad both men were smiling widely.

Alfred was happy that they were _his_ parents. He ran over to his fathers.

"Can we go on the waterslides first?" Alfred asked jumping around his parents' legs.

Both his fathers laughed. A brunette woman with a toddler hanging onto her hand stared at the family.

"We need to get settled into the room first." Dad said, "Then we can go down to the pool."

Matthew and Alfred fist pounded.

"This is gonna be so awesome!" Alfred sang.

* * *

Alfred dove into the pool. The water crashed around him as he shot towards the bottom. The water was the clearest blue he'd ever seen. Small bubbles drifted towards the surface. Alfred's toes rubbed the rough bottom of the pool. He pushed off.

When his head broke the water he took a gulp of air. Tall palm trees dotted the red stone around the pool with puddles of shade. He swam to the edge.

Between the pool and the beach were small thatched tiki houses with white chairs with pale blue cushions. Women with flowers in their hair were going around with little trays taking drink orders.

Mattie was sitting with Francis and Arthur in their hut. He was watching the pool with his towel wrapped around his shoulders. His fair skin was already turning an ugly shade of red across the bridge of his nose and cheeks.

"Come on Mattie!" Alfred called.

Papa bent down and whispered something into the older boy's ear. Mattie glanced up at him then back towards Alfred and the pool. Alfred kicked his feet out behind him, hanging onto the side with his arms.

Mattie rose on wobbly legs. He looked back at Papa once. The adult made shooing motions with his hands. The other boy shuffled over. He sat on the side next to Alfred, dangling his feet into the pool.

"Hey man, what's up?" Alfred asked. "You ok?"

Matthew nodded, "Yeah," he sighed, "just taking everything in."

Alfred hoisted himself up out of the water. Water dripped off his hair and his bathing suit. He shook his hair dry.

"You're like a dog," Matthew said

Alfred smiled and ignored him.

"You want to go check out the waterslides?" Alfred asked.

Matthew agreed so Alfred yelled over to their parents where they were going. Dad waved at them and told them to check-in, in half an hour.

The two boys climbed up and down the different slides. Matthew's favorite was the blue curly slide. Alfred's favorite was the green slide that went straight down. Neither liked the orange slide that slowly wound down towards the pool. Both liked the yellow slide that dumped water on them.

Exactly half an hour later Matthew made them get off the slides to check-in.

"Don't pout Alfred," Matthew nudged him, "they'll still be there in ten minutes."

Alfred rolled his eyes. The two hop-scotched the shadows until they got back to their parents hut.

Dad made them both put more sun screen on. Alfred whined and Matthew shrugged. He said he didn't want to be a lobster.

The family swam over to the pool bar. Papa and Dad ordered a piña colada. Matthew and Alfred got diet cokes. The boys begged their fathers to join them on the water slides. Arthur had laughed and agreed while Francis begged off, saying he'd watch and take pictures. Alfred never laughed harder than when Dad went on the yellow slide. He looked like a drowned cat.

Life was good.

* * *

The family quickly settled into a routine: breakfast in the room, waterslides in the morning, lunch at the pool bar, afternoon at the beach and dinner at one of the restaurants on the property. One thing Matthew didn't expect was the cats that were all over the property. Alfred was constantly chasing them about. On their way to dinner every night, they saw one little boy sleeping with dozens of cats around him.

Tonight they were heading to Chocopology. It was advertised as a chocolate culinary adventure. Matthew thoughts were filled with chocolate chip pancakes, hot chocolate and fudge. His stomach rumbled.

The family was seated and Mattie couldn't help but notice how cool everything was. The inside was decorated in deep browns, bright turquoise and soft creams. Bright blue booths wrapped the room. Mason jar lamps dangled from the ceiling. In the middle of the restaurant large glass cases displayed dozens of different truffles.

"Can I go look at the chocolate?" Matthew asked.

Papa nodded and scooted his chair back to join him. Matthew pressed his hands up to the glass. Some had salt, others had tiny purple flowers and others still were smooth chocolate. He'd never seen so many different kinds of chocolate before. It was like looking into heaven. Alfred threw Dad a guilty smiling before coming over too.

"Papa can we get some? Please Papa? Please?" He begged his father.

Papa chuckled, "Of course we can."

"Yes!" Matthew punched the air. Each of the little bronze card said what type of chocolate it was in neat black lettering. Mattie saw lilac, honey, cherry, peppermint, caramel, ganache and almond when he saw it.

Maple.

He nudged his brother, "Look!"

Alfred's eyes drifted over to where Mattie was pointing. His eyebrows rose.

"Dude," he drawled, "it's like it was meant to be."

Matthew nodded. Papa looked down at him.

"How much of an advance can I get on my allowance?"

Papa cocked an eyebrow.

"Because I want to buy _all_ of that chocolate," Matthew said firmly.

Alfred laughed so hard he started to snort. Chuckling Papa guided them over to the table.

"Let me speak with Dad first," he said. Matthew tried not to pout. He knew Dad was very much _against_ eating sweets. The trio rejoined Arthur at the table. Menus had been laid out and their waitress came over to explain the specials. After she left Alfred started whining.

"There's nothing for me to eat here," Alfred mumbled.

Dad rolled his eyes and pointed out the hamburger under the children's menu. Alfred cheered and thanked him. Mattie ordered the buffalo chicken crepe.

Alfred folded a napkin into triangle. The two boys played table hockey while their parents chatted about the next day. When the food came out it was greet by all four with gusto. Matthew devoured his crepe and started picking at his salad. He hated salad. The lettuce was dark green and purple. Some of the pieces were fuzzy like Alfred's hair in the morning. Overall it looked like yuck to him.

"Yes, you have to eat it all Matthew," Dad said.

"Wha? I didn't even say anything!" Matthew yelped.

"Lovely," Dad smiled.

Matthew huffed. Scrunching up his nose he put a piece in his mouth. He chewed for a second and the taste of dirt and worms and yuck filled his mouth. It seemed to coat his tongue. His eyes watered. Grabbing his glass of water he took two long gulps to wash it down. When it was gone he sighed. Then he looked down at his plate and grimaced. He still had a lot of salad to go.

He tried again. He hated eating vegetables. They were his least favorite food, but this salad was really nasty. Every bite he took had to be washed down with water. When his water was gone, but more than half the salad remained, he realized he'd have to try different measures.

"Dad?" Matthew asked.

"Yes?" Arthur looked over to him.

Matthew hesitated for a moment, chewing on his lip. He poked at the greens with his fork.

"There is something wrong with my food," the boy said, "it tastes funny."

"I'm sure it tastes fine love," Dad said.

"No really," Matthew insisted, "it tastes weird. Can you try it?"

Francis and Alfred started talking about the different truffles they were going to get after dinner. Dad sighed but nodded. He lifted a forkful of the salad to eye level and stared at it for several moments. After a decisive nod he put it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. Dad smacked his lips. His shoulders dropped and he gave Matthew a flat stare.

"It doesn't taste unusual to me," the Brit replied, "Are you trying to get out of eating your vegetables again?"

Mattie shook his head, "No! I swear it tastes weird."

Dad gave him the evil eye and told him to start eating. The teen picked at his food for several moments. He put another forkful in his mouth before spitting it into his hand.

"Matthew!" Dad hissed. Papa's gaze narrowed. Alfred sighed and sat back in his seat. Matthew felt his cheeks reddening at all of the attention. He couldn't do it. It was just too gross!

"Papa, please don't make me it eat!" Matthew begged, "It tastes like dirt."

"Come, _petit_, let me try it," Papa replied.

Relieved Matthew pushed the plate over. Francis delicately stabbed a forkful of lettuce. He didn't study it like Dad had, but just popped it in his mouth. He chewed once before raising his linen napkin to his face. He gave a hard swallow then took a long drink.

When he was finished he announced, "_Dieu_, that tastes exactly like dirt!"

He began picking through the lettuce with his fork. After a moment he stopped and just stared at his plate. Alfred peered in closer to see what Papa was looking at. There at the bottom of the bed of lettuce was a lump of dirt. It was about the size of his middle and pointer fingers and had leaves clinging to it. Alfred wrinkled his nose.

"I told you," Matthew whispered.

Dad rubbed his forehead, "Yes, yes, I just didn't think it tasted particularly bad."

Papa blinked and pushed the plate away. He looked up at Dad before starting to chuckle.

"This proves it Arthur!" Papa giggled, "You have no sense of taste."

Dad's cheeks went dark red and he glared. Slowly giggles broke out from Alfred then Matthew.

"You're lucky we're in a restaurant, Frog," Dad hissed, "and I can't bash your face in without appearing ungentlemanly."

"It looks like a turd," Alfred burst out. Immediately Mattie stopped chuckling. Both adults whipped around to stare at him. His brother went pale.

"Please don't be so crude," Papa scolded.

"Uhh, sorry," Alfred said quickly, "I didn't mean it."

"See that it doesn't happen again," Papa said.

Papa flagged down the waiter. The waiter looked like a kid going to the principal's office. He brought the manager over and they both apologized several times. The family was given complimentary tickets to the Mayan ruins. Matthew was also allowed to get as much maple chocolate as he wanted. Turned out dirt in his salad didn't deter his sweet tooth since he got three bags of it.

As they were walking back to the room Alfred asked, "So guess we're not going back there huh?"

"Definitely not," Papa answered.

"It was quite the 'culinary adventure' though," Dad remarked.

The whole family laughed.


	4. Taken

Mattie whooped as he disappeared down the dark tunnel. Running water surged around Alfred's ankles as he gripped the bar. A tanned lifeguard was lounging in a high chair. Alfred shifted in the cool water, impatiently waiting for the lifeguard to give him the ok. A splash sounded. The lifeguard turned to Alfred and gave him the thumbs up.

Alfred cheered as he threw himself down the slide. Lights flashed like strobe lights through the small windows. He swirled around the belly of the slide. Suddenly he burst into the open air part of the slide. Alfred squinted. When he looked right he could see the ocean breaking on the beach. Water whooshed around him. Down, down, down, he went plunging into the pool.

Alfred broke the surface, grinning. He ran towards the stairs. He wanted to go again!

That's when he saw Mattie.

He was standing with two strangers, which was really unusual for his shy brother. One man had purple swim trunks on and the other had khakis and a linen shirt on. The one with the purple bathing suit was carrying a wet towel. Alfred didn't recognize them.

Matthew waved and gave Alfred a weak smile. Alfred slowed. The younger boy looked over to where their parents were sitting.

"Alfred," Matthew shouted, waving faster, "come on!"

Alfred gave a half-hearted wave and started to move closer. He looked over his shoulder again. Dad was sitting on his stomach with his nose tucked into a book. Papa was fast asleep. One arm was flapping out beside the chair.

Alfred hesitated.

"Come on kid, move!" The lifeguard shouted down at him. Alfred scrambled over to Matthew. The burly guy wrapped his meaty fisted around Matthew's shoulder. He looked like a gorilla that had been forced into clothes two sizes too small. He did _not _look like a pleasant guy.

"What's going on?" Alfred asked. He tried to look at the gorilla's face to see where they knew him from, but a wide brimmed hat kept the majority of his face covered.

"Hey A-Al," Matthew stuttered. He was chewing on the corner of his thumb.

"Follow me," The man with the purple shorts growled. "Don't do anything stupid or your brother gets killed."

Alfred's blood froze and his palms started to sweat. A gun, because there was no way it could be anything else, flashed from inside the man's towel. If he'd seen this on TV Alfred would have laughed because really, who hid a gun in a towel? And who brought a gun to a beach? And wasn't the hotel supposed to be for guests only? So how did bad men like this get in?

It was all too much. Alfred's brain short circuited and he started doing the one thing that came natural to him in any situation, talking.

"Sure man, sure. I'd like to get out of my suit anyway," Alfred rambled, "What do you think Mattie?"

Matthew's throat must have been dry, too dry to reply, so he nodded.

"Walk," the man grunted. Alfred tried not to stare at him, but he couldn't help it. He didn't look like a man who'd carry a gun. He looked normal. Brown hair, brown eyes, light skin… Alfred could imagine him coaching a kid soccer league in a suburban town in the US.

Alfred searched for Mattie's hand. The water slide was still shooting out kids. Alfred's feet were burning on the cement. Normally he'd hop scotch from shadow to shadow. This time he just gritted his teeth.

"What happened Mattie?" Alfred whispered.

"Quiet," snapped the other gunman. Alfred looked up and caught a glimpse of his face; an ugly scar was peeking out from under his hat. It was like someone had tried to scalp him. Alfred bit his lip. He wasn't scared.

A glass door was open half way down the pool. The curtains were blowing out of the doorway like they were trying to escape.

The boys were pushed inside. Alfred looked around. It looked pretty much like their family's room. Two beds, a desk, television, a closet and bathroom. The sliding doors snapped shut. The curtains drawn closed across them.

The man holding the towel dropped it to the ground. A sleek, black handgun was pointed at Alfred's chest. Shadows stole across the room making the gun-toting men look much more at home. Goosebumps rose on Alfred's arms.

"Strip," the first gunman commanded.

Alfred's head jerked up, "what?"

The scarred man pulled a gun out from a suitcase. He caressed it once before pointing it at them.

"Take your clothes off now," the second man cocked his gun, grinning.

Mattie pulled his hand from Alfred's. He tugged down his swim trunks. Dazed Alfred noticed he could see a tan line from where his bathing suit covered Matthew's skin from the sun. He'd gotten burnt even after their Dad had tried so hard.

The scary gunman pointed to the bathroom with his gun.

"Shower and change. Quickly," he ordered. Mattie stumbled over to the door. Alfred pulled his bathing suit off too. He'd rather shower with his brother than be stuck out here with these loony-toons.

"Not you chatty," the scary gunman commanded, "you stay."

The thinner gunman stalked behind Mattie with his gun was pointed at his brother's back. Both figures disappeared into the bathroom. Alfred felt like he was going to throw up. He wanted his Papa.

"Sit."

He pulled out the desk chair. Naked, Alfred walked toward it on wobbly legs. Alfred covered up his bits. The man pulled out a pair of safety scissors. Alfred didn't think his sausage fingers would fit.

"This will hurt a bit," the man grunted, "don't yell."

Alfred gulped and gave a shallow nod. The man hadn't even started cutting yet but Alfred's eyes were watering.

A hand gripped his hair and then began sawing. Alfred whimpered and then his mouth started running again, "You know I didn't even want to come to Mexico. I would have been happy staying in the house for all I cared. Mexico doesn't have anything that the US doesn't. I really like waterslides, but you can find those at any good water park."

"Shut up," the hand cutting his hair went faster. Alfred winced. The big guy was yanking the hair from his head.

"What's your name anyway?" Alfred asked, "I've been calling you scary gunman in my head. That's not really a good name."

There was no response. Alfred closed his eyes when he saw locks of hair fall to the floor, "My name is Alfred. It's not so great either, but what can you do, right?"

The man roughly chopped more hair off and Alfred hissed. Matthew stepped out of the bathroom in green cargo shorts and a black shirt.

"Shower faster than he did," the man who'd cut Alfred's hair grunted, shoving Alfred from the chair.

"You next," he pointed at Mattie.

Alfred headed over to the bathroom. As Alfred passed Matthew, his brother reached out a hand and brushed it against Alfred's face. His brother didn't say anything. Alfred stopped walking. He wanted to crawl into his fathers' arms and have this nightmare go away.

"Move it," the normal looking gunman snarled, pressing his gun against Alfred's back. The sick feeling rolled through him again. His heart was beating as fast as a humming bird's wings.

Alfred hoped he wouldn't come in with him, but his hopes fell when the other man crowded into the tight space and sat on the closed toilet seat. He wasn't as large as the scary gorilla man outside but he still seemed to take up all of the space.

"Go," he commanded.

Alfred scrambled into the shower. Once the water was on he let out another whimper. Tears dripped down his face mixing with the water. A keening sound reverberated around the room. Stunned, Alfred clapped a hand over his mouth a second before, the gunman banged on the wall.

"Shut up!"

Inside Alfred's heart something shattered and strengthened at the same time. If he were to imagine it in his mind it would looked like glass, but feel like steel. Shaking, he wiped his eyes and quickly washed his hair and body.

He turned the water off. A towel was thrust around the curtain. Taking deep breaths, Alfred dried himself off and stepped out. A set of clothes sat on the counter. Alfred pulled them on quickly with his back to the man.

"Let's go," the man gripped his arm and pulled him out of the bathroom.

As he was stumbling out of the bathroom Alfred caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He'd never had his hair so short before. He ran his fingers through the fuzz.

Matthew was sitting at the end of the bed. He looked scared, but not hurt. The scary gunman was holding a teal colored backpack with a Miami Dolphins key chain dangling from it. His gun was laying on the desk.

"Why'd ya have that backpack?" Alfred asked, "Are you a Dolphins fan?"

"Sit on the other bed."

The man ignored Alfred's question and instead picked up the gun again. All of Alfred's muscles clenched up. He wanted to be as far from that gun as possible. Alfred moved towards the other bed. He sat on the side closest to his brother. Matthew chewed his thumb.

"We are leaving. You will not scream or cry or shout for help. You will walk silently with smiles on your face down to the lobby and into the car."

The thin gunman cocked the gun and pointed it at Mattie's head, "Do you understand me?"

His older brother whimpered and nodded furiously. His hands were raised in the air and Alfred copied him, nodding his agreement.

"Good, let's go," the man grunted.

Alfred sucked in a deep breath. He had to focus on his and his brother's survival.

* * *

Francis was nudged awake by the sound of Arthur's laughter. He blinked sleepily and rubbed at his eyes. His mouth was dry. He flagged down a waiter and ordered a piña colada for himself and Arthur and two sodas for the boys.

Arthur slipped a bookmark into his novel. He came over to sit at the side of Francis's chair.

"Hey love," Arthur said. He placed a kiss on his cheek. Francis moaned and turned, looking up at Arthur, begging for more. Arthur swatted at him, "Later."

Francis grinned, "I'm counting on it." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to go grab the boys," Arthur said, "They need to reapply their sun screen."

Francis grabbed Arthur's ass when he stood, "so soft," Francis moaned.

Arthur knocked him over the head as he left. Francis smirked, leaned back and closed his eyes. He could hear the distant sound of the ocean crashing against the shore. He could see it in his mind's eye. Blue as the sky. Arthur laying on golden sand. Him kissing Arthur in that sand...

"Francis!" Arthur shouted.

He sat up, "_Oui?" _he called. Arthur was knee deep in one of the pools, looking around.

"Alfred?" Arthur called, "Matthew?"

Francis quickly made his way over. Kids went running past him, laughing, splashing knee deep into the pool.

"Francis, I can't find the boys. Check the slides," Arthur commanded. The Brit wasn't yelling, but after being together for over twenty years he could tell Arthur was, as Alfred would say, freaking out.

Francis strode over to the slides. At the base was the lifeguard who measured the kids. He looked like he was born to be a lifeguard. He was tan, well built and had sun kissed hair. His sunglasses were pushed up on top of his head. He had warm brown eyes. If Francis wasn't in such a state he'd have to hit on him.

"I need to find my sons," the Frenchman said, "they might be on one of the slides."

The lifeguard nodded, "Sure," he said, "we can send them down. What are their names?"

"Alfred and Matthew Bonnefoy-Kirkland," Francis said.

The lifeguard nodded and repeated the names into his walkie-talkie, informing the lifeguards that the two boys needed to return to the entrance. The children standing in line behind him started shoving each other. The lifeguard let them go up.

Francis wanted to bounce on the balls of his feet. He was sure they were up there, but still. Slowly the replies came back in from the first slide, then the second, then the third. On it went until, with his heart in his throat, the twelfth slide reported no children on line with either name.

His heart pounded. He could hear the lifeguard speaking but couldn't make sense of English at the moment. They must have just wandered off. Maybe Alfred got hungry and they went to get a snack at the pool bar. He looked over to it, praying to see two little blond heads devouring food.

No one was there.

A sign read the bar was closed from four pm until dinner. Francis knew that. Alfred always came to get him around now to get him something to eat. Maybe Alfred didn't want to bother him and went by himself... Francis growled. They'd be lucky to leave his sight when he found them.

"Maybe they went back to the room?" The lifeguard asked. He had stopped letting children up the slides. High pitched voices were yelling.

Francis shook his head. "_Non, _not without telling us,"he said.

"What about the game room?" The lifeguard asked. Pushing had broken out on the line.

Francis shrugged, "I don't think so, but it couldn't hurt to look."

As the lifeguard nodded and turned to face the long line of kids.

"Oy!" He shouted. "The waterslides are closed. Go make a sandcastle on the beach!"

A chorus of awws erupted around them. Francis looked for Arthur. The Brit was stalking over. His hands were clenched in fists. Wild green eyes were flicking from child to child, looking for their sons.

"Did you find them?" He asked.

Francis shook his head. The edges of Arthur's bathing suit were darker. He must have gone further into the pools to search for them. Francis's thoughts swirled around him. Where could they be? The beach, game room, lobby, convenience store, restaurants... Francis shook his head the lifeguard was speaking.

"I'm going to inform resort management that they are missing. They will check your room and have security sweep the premise."

"Thank you Emilio," Arthur replied. Arthur's hair was rumpled... probably from running his hands through it. Francis blinked. He'd never bothered getting the other man's name. How rude of him.

"If you'll follow me." Emilio gestured to them, "I'll show you where you can wait for your boys."

Emilio led them inside to the lobby and to a room behind the check-in counter. The room was white and cold from the air conditioning. Goosebumps blossomed on his skin from the cool air. A long, black table was stretched across the back wall with windows that over looked the circular pools. Francis kept searching for Matthew and Alfred through the glass.

Emilio left them with a few reassuring words. Once he was gone Francis immediately scooted his chair closer to Arthur.

"It's going to be ok," he soothed, "they probably just went to the game room."

Arthur didn't reply. His face was beat red. His eyes were flickering across the edges of the pool and back to their tiki hut. Francis's piña colada was melting. Arthur had hunched himself over. He wrapped his arms around his stomach. He looked so small sitting like that. A mug filled with pens was in the middle of the table.

"Or maybe Alfred convinced Matthew to get a snack," Francis continued. It'd be fine (although they were in for a serious grounding when they got back).

A stack of forgotten napkins were perched at the end of the table. Their corners were fluttering from the air conditioner. Francis grabbed one and a black pen. His hands needed to be doing something.

Staring outside Francis sketched the outline Matthew's face on a napkin. He was laughing. The corners of his eyes were crinkled and his hair was bouncing around his face. Faint freckles dotted the bridge of his nose.

"Or maybe they found some friends and are hanging out with them," Francis thought aloud.

"Stop it!" Arthur burst out suddenly. Francis's hand stopped. A half drawn Alfred was left unfinished next to a laughing Matthew.

"Please! I can't handle the thought."

Francis reared back, "What?"

"I need to prepare myself for the worst. And I can't do that hoping," Arthur grit his teeth, "that everything is going to be ok."

Francis shook his head, "Where would they have gone?"

Arthur just shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes. Francis slapped down the pen. It went rolling towards the middle of the table.

"I mean it Arthur! They don't drive. They don't have money for a cab. How could they be anywhere but here, in the resort?"

Arthur hid his face in his hands. His palms pressed into his eyes. The tip of Arthur's nose was poking out between his fingers. It was bright red.

"I just want my babies back," Arthur murmured. Francis pulled the other man close and tucked Arthur under his chin. Arthur's was stiff in his hug.

"Me too," Francis whispered into his hair, "me too."

The air conditioner breathed. Happy kids outside screamed. Arthur shifted. Slowly his arms wound around Francis's body. His bony fingers dug into Francis's back. Francis closed his eyes and breathed. Arthur smelt of sunscreen, warmth and sweet apples.

It would be ok.


	5. The Boss

His study was warm and smoky. The late morning sunlight streamed in through windows. It was lovely. His study, that was. It was such a good place for conducting business and keeping the rest of the blasted world away.

A large oak desk held court in the center of the room. Plush red velvet chairs sat before the desk. In the corner, a coffee pot puttered. The whole room smelled like the dark roast beans he imported from Morocco.

At the end of his cigar small embers smoldered, the man tapped them against a wobbly, ceramic ashtray. His son had made it for him when he was a boy. It was ugly, but his favorite none the less.

His iPhone rang. The shrill sound jerked the man out of his thoughts. He slid the phone on and turned to look out the window.

"Is it done?" He demanded.

"Ah well, Boss, you see... there was a complication..." a low voice said.

The man exhaled and smoke billowed out of his nostrils. To anyone one looking in, he'd seem like a fire breathing dragon.

"What type of complication?" The Boss asked. A yellow, wide brimmed hat bobbed behind the rose bushes. On the other end of the phone a throat cleared. Natasha, his wife, appeared holding shears and a wicker basket filled with flowers. Her long hair swayed around her shoulders.

"Well, you see... we had to grab his brother too."

The man closed his eyes. Heaven help him, he was surrounded by morons. He took a deep breath. Natasha clipped more flowers.

It would not be in his best interest to alienate his team, in a foreign country, when they had already pulled off the kidnapping. All he had to do was sit back and watch everything burn. He took another breath. Natasha moved on to the yellow roses.

"Explain," he growled, pleased that his voice didn't raise in volume.

The young man on the other end began to ramble, "They looked so much a like we grabbed the wrong kid first before realizing the mistake. And we didn't want the operation to go south so..."

The Boss massaged his forehead. His wife had finished collecting flowers. She seated herself on the edge of the patio and started separating them into piles. He took a long breath and blew the smoke into the beam of sunlight. The smoky haze twisted and curled in the warm light. He sneered.

"Shut up, Joey," The Boss commanded, "Put Daniel on the phone."

Static sounded as the phone switched hands. Four large piles were spread out on the wooden porch. Natasha was swapping flowers into different piles. He took a drag and let the smoke sit in his mouth. The nicotine burned through his veins. His fingers tingled.

"Yes Boss," a smooth voice came on.

"How are you going to take care of it?" The Boss asked.

"We were just going to ransom them both off."

He frowned. Twice the risk with the same profit was unappealing. He chewed on his cigar in thought. Natasha bundled the finished piles up into bouquets. His son had always like his mother's flowers. He turned from the window.

"Don't worry, the parents are rather wealthy in their own right," Daniel continued, "I'm sure we can lump sum the two boys."

The Boss hummed in agreement. That was more to his taste, smart boy for realizing that without him needing to spell it out. Maybe he wasn't completely surrounded by idiots.

"And using them as a threat against the other to keep them in line has worked well so far," Daniel said.

"See that it continues. If this goes south because you buffoons picked up an additional child I will hold _you_ personally responsible."

"Understood," Daniel said shakily. The Boss's lips curled into a tight, thin smile. Of course it was hardly a smile at all; rather it was more of a physical manifestation of his approval and amusement.

"When are you making the call?" Boss demanded.

"Tonight at nine," Daniel replied.

Boss nodded and puffed, "Good. Don't fail me."

"I won't," Daniel replied.

The man tapped the screen and ended the call. He stared at the little red button on his iPhone. He shook his head. He sat down at his desk and stared down at an opened manila folder. A smiling blond boy was paper clipped to one side. On the other side read: Alfred F. Bonnefoy-Kirkland nee Jones.

The Boss ground his cigar out on the photo. When he pulled away a charred hole remained where the smiling boy used to be. The Boss smirked.

* * *

Matthew woke with a bump. Something smelled rancid as if they'd left eggs sitting out on the porch again. He was sitting in a car, a minivan maybe? His vision was blurry. He tried to rub the crusties out of them, but his arms wouldn't move. Why wouldn't his arms move?!

"Papa?" He slurred, "Something's wrong."

"Fuck Joey! Put him out!" A deep voice hissed. Matthew stalled, mid-question. For a second or so, something in his chest felt decidedly off – too far right to be his heart and too far north to be his stomach.

With the forced of an atom bomb it came back to him. Water slides, threats, gunmen, car, rag, blackness. The feeling between his lungs plummeted into his stomach.

"No!" Matthew yelped, "Papa?! Daddy!"

A white rag was pushed towards his face. The man holding it was scowling. Matthew struggled to get free, but something was keeping him in his seat. His arms weren't listening to his brain.

The rag was pushed against his nose and his mouth. It scratched his cheeks. He held his breath.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.

Alfred grunted somewhere next to him. Mattie couldn't go to sleep again. He couldn't. Who knows where they would be when he woke up again. And what if they separated him and Alfred?! He couldn't sleep! Don't breathe! Don't breathe!

Seven Mississippi. Eight Mississippi.

Another hand came out from the front seat. Matthew could see Joey's face. He had a crooked nose.

Eleven Mississippi. Twelve Mississippi.

He squinted his eyes, concentrating on not breathing. The second hand reached for his side. It tickled him. Matthew laughed. A breath of cotton candy air danced across his nose. The edges of his vision blurred out.

Matthew slept.

* * *

Alfred woke.

Now normally when he woke it was to the smell of eggs or pancakes. His Papa always made great breakfasts. That wasn't what woke him today. No, today, there was a hard shoulder was digging into his neck. Who would he be sleeping with? Mattie's shoulders weren't that big. His mouth and nose were smashed into the person's chest. He wanted to move his head, but it was too heavy.

Groggily he opened his eyes. Shiny white marble floors were spread out below him. He was being carried. His brow furrowed. Papa and Dad didn't carry him anymore. He was too big.

"Wassgoinon?" He slurred. All his muscles felt like rocks.

"It's ok, Robert," a voice rumbled above him, "you're sick. Just sleep."

"Oh," Alfred mumbled. That made sense. He must have caught the bug that was going around school. He closed his eyes. Sleep sounded good. He'd do that. As he was drifting he realized something was wrong.

"Whose Robert?" Alfred mumbled.

"Sorry," the same voice said, "he must be worse than I realized. Can we hurry this along?" The arm under him shifted and Alfred's nose was freed from the man's shoulder.

"Of course, Mr. Lee," said a female, "You can head up now. Would you like help with your bags?"

Alfred's mind started drifting before he could hear the reply. He wanted to go snorkeling tomorrow. Dad promised he'd take him when he'd finished his book. Alfred hated reading. He liked listening to books though. Like when his Dad and Papa read to him. That was the best...

Wait, who was Robert? He forced his eyes back open. He couldn't go to sleep.

The boy studied the neck his face was tucked into. The skin was really tan. Which one of his parents stopped using sunscreen. Not Dad, surely. That's when he noticed the black hair. No one in his family had dark hair anymore.

Laziness tugged at his conscious. It caressed his mind so sweetly and he wanted to fall into it. But he couldn't sleep. Something was _wrong_.

"Dad?" He mumbled calling out for the man he felt safest with. An elevator dinged. The arms holding him shifted. Alfred tried to pull his head up but it was like it'd been glued down.

"Dad?" He called out again. Alfred was scared and something weird was going on.

"It'll be ok Robby, you'll be right as rain soon," the voice assured him. A warm hand rubbed his back. That's what Dad would say, but that wasn't his voice. What was going on? Alfred sniffed. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes.

"Daddy?" He called again, trying to lift his head.

"It'll be ok, love, just sleep."

Only his Dad had ever called him love. It had to be him. Alfred just needed to sleep then he'd get better. Once he was better everything would seem right again.

The hand rubbing his back moved in soothing circles. Alfred fell into their movements like he'd fall into the ocean. As he drifted down, he slipped underneath rippling golden water. Angel fish swam past him. A sea turtle munched on sea grass above him. Snorkeling was awesome, Alfred decided, before his mind became too full of warmth to stay conscious any longer.

Alfred slept.


	6. Threats

"Daniel," a voice called.

Hunched over his desk, Toris didn't pay it any attention. He had to figure out the numbers for the next few races. Just because he was working this job didn't mean the Boss would let his gambling gigs slide. The numbers broke away from the page and started running away from him. Toris tried to catch them but a whispered voice interrupted his pursuit.

"Daniel," the voice whispered, "hey Daniel!"

Something hit his left shoulder and Toris rolled awake. That's right he was Daniel. For this job his name was Daniel. He rolled over and scowled at the dark skinned man.

"It's your turn to watch the brats," Cuba grimaced from the chair. His gun was dangling in his hand. Toris looked over to the beds. Both kids were still passed out.

Toris, no _Daniel_, had never learned the other man's real name. Each time they'd worked together his name was different. In his head Daniel had taken to calling him Cuba, after the other man's home country.

Daniel was no better though. Every assignment he had a new name. Anonymity was key. Even his boss, and long time guardian, made sure to only call him by his current name when he was working.

"How much did you give them?" Daniel grumbled as he got up from the pull-out, "I don't think they should still be out."

"Whatever," Cuba said, "it's better than dealing with them awake."

Daniel rolled his eyes, "Yeah, as long as they didn't over dose."

The brunette grabbed his gun and shuffled over to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and nodded.

It was best that they never used their real identities. When the operation got hot, Toris left those sins with Daniel or Craig or who ever he was that day. He didn't take that baggage home with him.

Daniel slicked back his hair with a comb. His gun was tucked into the back of his pants. He sneered at the mirror.

He had to be Daniel because Toris didn't kidnap children or threaten to kill people. No, Toris spent the afternoons walking through the park with his little brothers and visiting Felix. Toris played computer games with Eduardo and read poetry to Raivis at bed time.

Toris would do anything to protect them.

Matthew knew anything could be a cage because he'd made terrariums in Boy Scouts. They'd made cages out of water bottles, jars, boxes and even a shoe. He just hadn't realized it applied to people as well.

This time the cage a hotel room, it was a nice room, better than the one he'd been staying in with his parents, but it was still a cage. Either Daniel or Joey was guarding them every day. Matthew wasn't sure where the other would go, but they were back each night.

The TV was on, Food Network. That was their Papa's favorite channel and Mattie guessed that was the only reason Alfred had left it there. Matthew looked up at him. His brother was lying on his stomach with his feet in the air. Pillows surrounded him like a nest.

The first day they were here Alfred had claimed the bed closest to the door and refused to let Matthew switch with him. The kidnappers rotated who slept on the pull out sofa and the chair. The one in the chair always slept with a gun in their hand.

This was their third day here. Matthew could tell because he was sitting against the curtain covered window and he could feel the warmth of the sun. It felt longer than that though. It felt like months had gone by since he'd seen his parents. He scratched another line into the wooden floor. Three lines stared back at him silently.

Paula Dean came on, then two episodes of Giada.

Matthew didn't know why they were keeping them here. He just wanted to go home. He turned his gaze from the television to watch Alfred. He had his hand propped on his chin and was chewing his lip.

Matthew knew that look. His brother was thinking. An ocean churched in his stomach. What could he be thinking about?

He pushed his back against the wall harder. He just had to be patient. They'd get out of here. He started categorizing plants in his mind. Sweet fern, Poison Ivy, Beach Pea, Mayapple...

Matthew blinked coming out of his daze. Alfred had shifted. He was sitting up straight and his face was nervous. Matthew followed his gaze straight to Daniel. Matthew gulped.

"Why are you doing this?" Alfred asked.

Matthew's stomach dropped. The handgun was right beside him on the desk. Slowly the man looked up from his papers.

Matthew's palms were sweating. Please don't shoot Alfred his mind whispered.

Daniel smiled with too many teeth and replied, "For the money."

Alfred glared.

"That's stupid! We don't have any money!" Alfred yelled.

"I know you do. Now shut up before I shoot you in the leg for distracting me."

His brother stilled and Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. Then Alfred cocked his head and started giggling.

"You can't do that!" Alfred exclaimed, pushing himself to his knees on the bed. Matthew slid behind the bed.

Alfred snickered, "Then the other guests would hear and they'd come around wondering what was going on and you'd be screwed!"

Alfred stopped laughing suddenly. Matthew peeked his head over the edge.

Daniel had risen from his seat and was glowering at Alfred. In his hand was a long hunting knife.

"Listen here you little shit," Daniel grunted. He stalked over to Alfred. The knife shone like silver. Matthew tried to make himself a ghost. He wished Alfred would do the same thing. He didn't want his brother getting hurt because he was a hot head.

"You only need to be breathing for us to get the money from your faggot parents."

Alfred face flushed red and Matthew flinched. Daniel used one meaty finger and pushed Alfred down onto the bed. A moment later the large adult was straddled over Alfred. Daniel held the knife above Alfred's throat and swung it slowly like a pendulum.

Tears started slipping out of Matthew's eyes. He was going to watch his brother get his throat slit open.

"Do you understand what that means?"

Alfred's Adams apple bobbed and he nodded. The knife moved over to his ear. A rough hand gripped it. The blade was right against Alfred's skin.

"Go on then," he hissed, "Explain it to me."

When Alfred started talking his voice was high and shaking. "Means you could hurt me without killing me."

"Precisely. Like I could cut out your tongue to stop your incessant questions."

Now Matthew could see that Alfred was crying. Suddenly Daniel pulled himself up and the knife disappeared. His dark eyes were like flames and Matthew shivered.

"Now shut up and watch TV like a good boy."

Daniel went back to the desk. He pulled out his phone and was immediately snarling into it. Alfred had scrambled back to the head board. Matthew could see his hands were shaking as he dragged a few pillows over to him. His little brother formed another nest around himself. He didn't look at Matthew, but just stared blankly at the television. Matthew sunk down to the carpet and pulled himself into a ball.

He wanted to go home.

The world seemed to be flickering past him. The cramped police station. Spanish accents. Francis holding his hand. Dirty looks. Bad tea. Sleeping. More bad tea. Pitying looks.

Then finally, finally, the arrival of Interpol.

It felt like someone had shaken him awake. He focused on the arrival of three new people. They were definitely not Mexican.

"I am Special Agent Ludwig Beilschmidt with Interpol," the tallest man said. Arthur blinked. He was German. Was it normal for Interpol to send agents from other countries to help?

"We're here to assist the Mexican police in order to help find your children," The German gestured to the other people beside him, "These are my associates Agent Edelstein and Agent Héderváry."

Francis was reaching out to shake the man's hand, thanking him profusely. Arthur mimicked his husbands motion.

"Is there some place private we can go to talk?" The question was directed at the police chief, Sanchez. Arthur didn't like him very much. He seemed to be of the belief that their children were "most likely dead or gone forever." Arthur had snarled at him when he told them that. He obviously didn't know their boys.

Sanchez directed them over to a small room with a couch.

"Do you mind answering a few questions for us?"

"Of course," Arthur said.

"But we did not see anything," Francis mumbled, "What help could we be to you?"

"You may have noticed something that you didn't realize was important," the woman, Agent Head-something-or-other, explained.

Francis scrubbed his hands across his cheeks, "Whatever you need."

The group sat down and began going over that terrible day again.

A few hours later the three Interpol agents were alone. Roderich began by summarizing what they had learned so far. The Mexican police had done a shitty job and if they hadn't been called in those two boys definitely wouldn't ever have returned home. Not to say Elizaveta thought their team was the best thing out there, but they were far superior to the Mexican police.

"Nothing was left behind in the hotel. All we got is a fake name that the reservation was made under," Roderich reported.

"How do we know it's fake?" Ludwig followed up.

"It was for a dead Canadian man," replied Roderich.

Elizabeta hummed in thought, "Were we able to catch them on any of the surveillance cameras?"

"No, they were good," Ludwig sighed, "Kept their faces turned away from them."

"And the kids?" asked Elizabeta.

"The boys? We were able to get partials shots of," the blond explained.

An image pulled up of the older boy, Matthew. His lower lip was caught between his teeth and his shoulders were hunched. Alfred, the younger boy, was standing in front of him. He was grinning. Honestly it looked a little manic. In the next still Matthew had onto a tight smile on his face. Elizabeta scanned the rest of the photo, one of the men had grabbed his shoulder.

"Why do you think he's smiling?" Roderich asked.

"Maybe they know the men?" Ludwig shrugged.

"I don't think so..." Elizabeta stared at the screen, "His behavior is the giveaway. See in this still? He appears worried and nervous, but, see here," she pointed to the next still, "the kidnapper corrected that behavior to keep him smiling so he wouldn't raise suspicion."

"Meaning they know what they're doing well enough to not let the kids' expressions give them away," Ludwig concluded.

"So this is a professional hit," Roderich declared, "Not a crime of opportunity. These guys were organized and planned."

The three stared at each other.

"Who did this family cross?" Ludwig wondered.

Elizabeta sighed. Whoever it was it was definitely bad.


	7. Help

Dedicated to 91RedRoses, my most dedicated reader and enthusiastic beta.

* * *

A bang broke the silence of the room.

Alfred bolted up in bed, hands feeling his chest. It wasn't a gun shot. Everything was ok. Alfred hadn't been shot. His brain felt like the Enterprise when it'd been pulled out of warp drive. He pressed a hand to his chest, heart still pounding.

His eyes flicked around the room. The bathroom light was the only light on. The curtains were still drawn tight. Matthew was in the other bed but other than him...

It was empty.

"They're gone," Alfred said, rubbing at his eyes in disbelief.

Matthew nodded and Alfred sighed. His brother hadn't said boo since yesterday's... incident.

"It's ok, Mattie. They're gone."

Alfred crawled into his brother's bed and wrapped his arms around him.

Alfred pulled away, "Do you think they locked the door from the outside?"

Matthew shook his head then whispered so softly Alfred almost didn't hear it, "I don't think so."

Both of them stared at the door. Alfred's thoughts picked up speed again. If the door wasn't locked from the outside then... they could walk out. Just walk out and run. Never look back.

"But what if they're outside the door?" Alfred asked.

"Are you suggesting..." Matthew trailed off.

Alfred looked around the room then back to his brother, "We've got to go for it Mattie!"

"Why?" Matthew sniffed, "Can't we just wait for Papa and Dad to give them the money?"

Alfred closed his eyes. Mattie hadn't thought about it. He really hadn't realized.

"Mattie," Alfred whispered.

His brother's gaze settled on him and Alfred felt like he was going to be sick. Alfred gulped, trying to form the words. He didn't _want_ to tell his brother this.

"They're not going to let us go," Alfred explained. The words were hollow in his throat.

"Wha-what?"

Alfred bit his lip, "Haven't you watched Criminal Minds or Hawaii 5-0?" Matthew shook his head so Alfred continued on, "We've seen their faces. We could identify them to the police."

Matthew bit his lip, "What if we promised we wouldn't?"

Alfred shook his head no. A tear leaked from Matthew's eye. They would get out of this. Matthew was silent for a few minutes. The two boys huddled in the darkness surrounded by pillows. Mattie shifted and Alfred could faintly hear teeth grind.

"Alright then," Mattie said thickly, "what are we going to do?"

A sharp knock burst through the room. Like a shot Alfred scrambled back to his bed. Matthew pulled the covers up to his nose.

The door clicked. Alfred was shaking. He didn't know what they were going to do! They weren't ready! Would they know? Had they been listening in at the door? Could they still make a run for it now? How far would they get?

"House keeping!" a woman's voice yelled then light flooded the room.

Alfred was frozen and he struggled to process the words. House keeping? Like a maid? What was the right thing to do? Was she helping with their kidnappers? Did she know?

His breath shuddered in his throat. What if she really was just a maid... Should they tell her what was going on? Ask her for help? Would she believe them? Where were Daniel and Joey? Would they come storming in? Was she going to be killed for stumbling into the wrong situation?

The door closed and the maid started humming. It was a tune Alfred recognized instantly, Hey Jude by the Beatles. Matthew sucked in a breath. Their Dad use to sing it to them when they were sad.

"Hola?" the woman called. She rounded the partition and gasped.

She's really pretty, thought Alfred in a distant part of his mind. Her uniform was starched and her hair was in pigtails. Stitched to her uniform was a name tag, Rosa, printed in looping cursive.

"H-hi," Alfred's voice broke over the word.

* * *

Joey sat at the desk, twirling a pen and chomping on a piece of gum.

Alfred's hands were sweating and they had been since yesterday. He felt like they knew something was up, but he prayed he was wrong. This was their best shot, their only shot.

Matthew was curled up by the window. Alfred gazed at the images on the screen. Massive burgers and donuts on Man vs. Food. It was one of his favorite episodes. He tried to focus on that so he wouldn't over think the plan they'd come up with.

A knock sounded on the door. Alfred looked to the door then where his brother was sitting on the floor. Only the top of his hair could be seen over the bed. It shrunk down for a moment before Matthew climbed onto the bed.

"Room service!" A deep voice called.

Joey dropped his pen. The hulking man stared at the door. A scowl cut across his face. Joey stuffed his gun in his waistband and walked over. Alfred scooted to the edge of his bed. He peered around the partition to see Joey flip off the dead bolt and crack the door open.

"We didn't order anything," Joey growled.

The man at the door was Rosa's brother, Antonio. He was a thin guy with short dark hair and tan skin wearing a dark uniform with a silver platter in one hand. If Alfred didn't know he was in on the escape attempt he never would have guessed it.

"Oh really? I'm so sorry to have disturbed you," Antonio apologized. Joey nodded and opened the door a little wider.

"You should be. My son is sick," he grumbled. Alfred rolled his eyes.

Antonio smiled, "I'm so sorry to hear that. I can bring up a get well soon basket for you son. No charge to make up for the interruption."

Joey was still for a moment before nodding, "And ice cream. His throat is hurting."

"Of course."

The door shut and Alfred heard Joey return to the desk. The gun clattered on the desk. Not even five minutes later there was another knock at the door. Joey rushed over to the door. The gun lay forgotten on the desk. Alfred smiled. Well that made everything a million times easier. He must really like ice cream Alfred snickered.

Alfred looked back to Mattie, "ready?" he mouthed.

Matthew closed his eyes and nodded. Joey opened the door wide for Antonio. Alfred motioned to Matthew. His brother slid off his bed and tip toed over. Alfred slid his hand into his brother's, not because he was scared or nervous, no, he didn't want to loose Mattie when they were running.

"Hola Señor!" Antonio smiled. A large wicker basked was in one of his hands.

Loud screeches erupted like lava from a volcano. Flashing white lights blinded Alfred for a moment. The fire alarm was going off. The fire alarm was going off! The signal!

Alfred rushed towards the door with Matthew right next to him. Antonio pounced on Joey, knocking him out with the silver dinner tray that had been hidden in the hallway.

The dark haired man went down hard. A large gush on his forehead was oozing blood. Alfred's steps wobbled as he rounded the unconscious man. Even though he was knocked out he was still scary. Matthew tugged on his hand and they ran out of the room quickly.

"Vamanos! Vamanos!" Antonio yelled.

Antonio led them down the hallway and into the staff staircase. Slow, old tourists got in their way. Alfred ducked under their arms. He lost Mattie's hand. Alfred paused, eyes scanning the room frantically.

"Go, Alfred!" That was Mattie! "Go!" So Alfred kept running.

The alarm was still screaming. His eyes were glued to Antonio's back.

One shot.

Their group burst through the door. Antonio was taking the stairs two at a time. Alfred ran down them with Matthew by his side. He reached out and grabbed his brother's hand again. His shoe laces were flopping around his feet but he didn't stop to fix them. The three of them flew down the flights of stairs.

Floor 8, 7, and 6 disappeared. They still had so far to go though. The pick up truck was at the edge of the property. Joey and Daniel could be anywhere. Alfred peered over his shoulder while running to make sure they weren't behind them.

The next step never came. He tripped and fell, landing hard at the bottom of the stairs. Matthew was pulling him up moments later though.

"Come on Al, you can do it," Mattie puffed.

Alfred panted and nodded. His ankle throbbed, but he kept running. Antonio paused and circled back. He got behind them and kept ushering them down, down, down.

By the time they hit the third floor Alfred dripped with sweat and was biting his lip to keep from crying. His ankle hurt like a bitch.

"Almost there," he panted to himself, "Almost there."

Their group burst into the service hallways that ran under the building. The fire alarm was silent down here, just flashing lights. The absence of the sirens made his head ring. Antonio guided them down a long, gray hallway. The only sounds were their feet slapping against the tile and the harsh panting. The cool air made goosebumps appear on his arms. Just when the corridor was starting to feel endless a staircase appeared from the gloom.

"Up here, up here!" Antonio shouted. He started climbing the narrow stairs in looping strides.

Alfred pushed Mattie on the stairs and started climbing right behind him. He gripped the railing trying to the weight off his leg. Antonio pushed open the storm doors. Heat and sunlight flooded the damp hallway. Alfred eyes watered, but turned his face towards the light and warmth anyway. He'd missed seeing the sky. It was so blue. Like a jolly rancher.

"Come on!"

Alfred tore his gaze from the sky. Not even a football field away, a service road curled off into the jungle. Rosa was waiting for them tucked behind machinery and trees. She stepped out on to the road gave the group wave. A second later her face turned white.

A bullet hit the ground and spit rocks into the air. Matthew cried. Antonio yelled for Rosa. The girl jumped back to the safety of the trees. Just in time too because another bullet whizzed past Alfred's ear. Alfred looked behind him. It was Joey. He wasn't moving very fast, but his gun was spitting out bullets.

Alfred was going to puke.

"Run!" Antonio yelled.

Rosa had disappeared. In a moment of despair Alfred thought she had left them. Two seconds later a red pick up truck came roaring out from the trees. Bullets whizzed past him again. This time Alfred hit the deck, dragging Matthew down with him. Alfred pressed his face into the dirt.

"No!" Antonio shouted as he pulled at Alfred, "Keep running."

Matthew scrambled up and dragged Alfred with him. When Alfred looked up he saw that it was Rosa driving the truck. Someone was sitting in the passenger seat firing towards Joey!

Alfred wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. They might make it!

The truck screeched to a stop in front of them. A cloud of dirt surrounded them and Rosa's friend leapt out and kept firing. Antonio hoisted Matthew and him into the cab of the truck. Matthew face was planted in Rosa's lap as Alfred scrambled as close as he could get. Antonio slammed the door shut. Not even two seconds later Rosa took off backwards towards the jungle. Once they were hidden in the trees she flipped the car around.

Alfred looked around widely for Antonio. Why did they leave him there? A sad whimpering made Alfred look down. Matthew was crying on the floor of the cab with his hands covering his eyes.

"Mattie?" Alfred whispered, sliding down on to the floor. He reached out to touch his brother but he flinched away knocking his head against the glove compartment.

"Mattie, it's ok. It's ok, we did it." Alfred whispered, "We did it. We're out. It's ok."

Mattie whimpered a sad, desperate sound and launched himself at Alfred. Alfred wrapped his arms around his brother. They stayed together on the floor as the truck bumped along the road with Rosa humming Hey Jude above them.


	8. Almost

Arthur was sitting next to him. Under the table the edges of their feet were pressed together. It was all the comfort they were willing to take at the moment. The Mexican police hadn't been particularly welcoming in that regard and since the police's co-operation was essential to getting their boys back they both agreed to play it safe.

The Interpol agents had promised a second ransom call would come, that the kidnappers would need to give them instructions on where to leave the money. They had set up all their equipment to be ready for the call.

That was two days ago.

The room they had commandeered to wait for their children in was windowless and cramped. A black telephone sat on a long wooden table waiting for the call that had never come.

CNN International was playing from the television. Four, red suitcases were propped in the corner. Francis turned his gaze away from the two smaller suitcases to focus on the television.

"What appears to be a gang war has spilled over into the resort section of nearby Playa del Carmen," a reported stated, "Local gangs struck the resort while it was undergoing a routine fire drill."

Francis couldn't help but let his thoughts wonder. Could that have something to do with his boys? Where they there? Francis pressed his hands to his eyes then shook his head. No, probably not. He saw his sons in every news story now.

"Two Mexican nationals are being detained in regards to participation in the event. One Antonio Manuel Vita and Juan Baetia Perez. In other news..."

Francis sighed. Waiting was killing him.

The phone sat on the table curled up like a smug cat. A black box sat behind it. One either side were Interpol agents. Agent Beilschmidt would walk them through the call if- no- when it came.

Arthur stared at that phone more than he stared at his husband. It wasn't because it was more beautiful or more loving even though it needed neither to be more attractive to Arthur. It was because through it he could reach his children.

If it would just bloody ring.

Arthur slouched in his chair. They'd been contacted once the day after the boys had been taken, but Interpol hadn't arrived yet. Arthur had demanded proof of life and then been hung up on. After he'd sobbed and sobbed, but what if they were dead already? He had to know they were ok and he would pull all of the money out of their savings, 401k anything.

The phone stayed silent.

He must have fallen asleep glaring at the phone because that was the first thing he saw when a loud ringing woke him from his sleep.

Agent Beilschmidt came striding into the room, calling orders and connecting wires and headsets. Francis came stumbling into the room with two steaming cups and the other agents behind him.

"Alright who is going to be talking?"

Francis and Arthur looked at each other. The phone's ring was making him sweat. His fingers stretched toward it like a plant towards the sun. Francis tilted his head and Arthur nodded.

"I am," the Brit said.

Agent Beilschmidt nodded, "Just remember to keep them talking. That way we can get a location on them."

Arthur picked up the phone. The plastic was cool in his palm.

"Hello?" His voice broke over the word.

"Arthur Kirkland, I presume?" a choppy, digital voice asked. The sound sent shivers down his spine.

"Yes," Arthur said.

"We have your sons. In exchange for their safe return you will wire twenty million dollars into a Swiss bank account."

"What?" Arthur exclaimed over the sum, "We don't have..." the words trailed off as the realization sunk in. Arthur looked at Francis in horror. From the corner of his eye he could see that Ludwig was motioning him to keep going, but the words had withered in his throat.

"If the money isn't wired into the account you will receive your children's heads," the voice threatened.

Arthur's face paled and he gagged, "I will get it to you, I will... please let me speak with them though. I need to know they're alright."

There was a grunt and then static. Arthur held his breath.

"Daddy?"

"Alfred?" Arthur gasped. His son sounded scared. Arthur ran his free hand against his leg.

"Dad, I wanna come home," his son whimpered. His nails scratched his thigh.

He cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice steady, "it's ok, baby. You'll be ok."

"Good enough for you?" The kidnapper's voice grated in Arthur's ears.

Arthur though he was going to puke his heart up. His palm was cold and clammy around the phone.

"Matthew, please, let me speak with Matthew," Arthur begged.

"No. Tomorrow at noon I will give you the account number. You will have two days to transfer the money into the account. Once all of the money is accounted for I will give you the location of your children."

"Yes, yes, but please Matthew, I need to know he is still," Arthur voice caught, "alive."

"Alfred was our good faith gesture. Tomorrow. Noon."

And the line went dead.

It was like a bomb exploded.

"NO!"

Arthur threw the phone away from him and slammed his fists against the table.

"No! No, no," he sobbed. Voices rose around him. People were standing. Arthur felt like he was spinning down a drain. Two arms circled around his neck and a cheek pressed into the crown of his head.

Arthur trembled.

* * *

Miles and miles away, Rosa parked a red truck on the out skirts of a train yard. Everyone sat appreciating the stillness. She had driven them all night to make sure she had lost their attackers.

Oddly it was Matthew that broke the silence first. "Thanks Rosa," Matthew whispered, "You have no idea how much we appreciate you helping us."

Alfred smiled and vigorously shook his head in agreement.

"Of course, niños," she smiled at them, "I did only what any decent person would do and I am only sorry I cannot take you all the way home."

Matthew sniffled a little and gave a watery smile, but Alfred put on a brave face.

"It's ok, you've given us a great head start," Alfred smiled at her.

"I packed something to help along the way," Rosa said. She slid out of the car. Matthew and Alfred looked at each other. Without the adrenaline pumping through him, Alfred was scared. He didn't want to leave Rosa and her amazing red truck. He wanted to hide there forever.

Matthew slid out of the cab first. Hesitantly Alfred followed behind him. He wasn't staying anywhere that Matthew wasn't.

Matthew was digging through a brown backpack. Several bottles of water were sitting next to him.

"This is incredible Rosa," Mattie whispered, "Thank you so much."

Rosa held out a second backpack for Alfred, "This one is for you."

Alfred smiled and also started looking through it. At the top were dried fruit, a jar of peanut butter, a box of crackers and bottles of water. Underneath that was an extra pair of clothes and a net looking thing – "to keep bugs out when you're sleeping," Rosa explained.

Alfred's eyes burned as he stared down at the brown bag. He didn't know why his stupid self was crying over a stupid backpack. He didn't cry at all when they were stuck in tat room.

Gently Rosa helped them each pack the bag back up. A train whistle blew through the yard. Alfred slung his back onto his shoulders. It was heavy.

"You need to get moving. Remember you need a train going north. That will take you up to the border. Tell the border patrol you're American citizens and you need to speak with your embassy."

Matthew nodded and whispered his thanks again. He turned away firmly and even though he wasn't making any sounds Alfred knew he was crying. His shoulders were shaking. Matthew stumbled away from the pick-up truck. Alfred quickly followed behind him. He looked over his shoulder.

Rosa was standing with her hands clasped under her chin. It almost looked like she was praying. The truck was quiet next to her. She looked so sad. Alfred ran back. He pressed his face against her belly and hugged her tightly before running after Mattie into the train yard.

The boys ran towards the line of train cars. Alfred hitched the backpack up on his shoulders. They walked between a tall row of trains and lost sight of the woman who'd taken them so far. The boys searched for open box cars.

"How do we know which ones go north Mattie?"

The older boy glanced up to the sky.

"Well the sun rises in the east and sets in the west," he murmured.

Alfred looked up to the sky also. It was the afternoon so the sun was sinking towards the west. Mattie turned in a circle until the sun was over his left shoulder. He spread out his hands then looked over to Alfred and pointed straight ahead at the center of a box car.

"This way," he sighed, "this way is north."

Alfred nodded, "ok, ok," he murmured, "so we need to find a train facing that direction."

The two boys hurried through the rows of trains, going underneath the bellies of the cars and through open doors.

They were all facing east and west though.

"Let's just pick one," Alfred said, "Anywhere is better than here."

Matthew nodded and the two boys scrambled into an open box car. There were boxes strapped down to the floor. Alfred and Matthew hid on the far side of the car behind them. Neither of them relaxed until the felt the train begin to move.

After a while Alfred heard Matthew fall asleep. Even in his exhaustion his mind was rushing too quickly to sleep. The trees covered the night sky, but every once and a while Alfred could glimpse a patch of stars. His eyes slid across the trees as the train carried them into the darkness.

Hours later, thick white clouds ran across the sky. The sun had just started to break over the trees. The sky was purple at the top. The North Star was low on the opposite horizon from them. He didn't know where they would end up, but home was north so that's where had to go.

Alfred rolled onto his belly. The open door let in a nice breeze but it was still wicked humid. Matthew was sleeping against the wall. Now that they'd been traveling for a few hours Alfred felt better. Like every thing was just a bad dream.

Birds skimmed the tops of the trees. A straight line caught his eye. Nestled into the valley below him were gray buildings. They protruded from the ground like teeth. Alfred bit his finger. A city could either be really good or really bad... They could try to call their parents though.

The train rocked and jolted. Rapidly approaching was an area with trains sitting. Police with dogs were walking beside the tracks. Alfred cursed. They had to jump! He quickly shook his brother awake.

* * *

Matthew fell off the train hard. Sharp rocks scratched his arms. He pressed his face into the backpack. Over and over he rolled, his body following the hill. When he finally stopped and was able to stand he had to brace himself on a tree. The world was rolling under his feet. Above him the train rumbled on.

Alfred and Matthew followed the slope towards the city.

It took an hour but they finally reached the outskirts of the city. The trees had been cleared and rough asphalt roads had been laid. Short cement buildings lined the roads advertising Coca Cola and Vodafone.

Children in starched shirts and plaid shorts were walking down the street to school. Compared to the other kids the brothers stood out with their white skin and blonde hair.

Matthew hadn't thought about school in forever. He couldn't wait to go back to studying and Boy Scouts and hockey. God, he wanted to go home. Alfred strode through the streets as if he knew where he was going and Matthew followed in his wake, praying no one would stop them.

He wasn't sure where Alfred was taking them. They passed a phone booth, but Alfred didn't stop. The two walked further into the town. The buildings got closer together and Matthew finally put an arm out to stop Alfred.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

Alfred stared at him, "The police." As if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

He turned to keep walking, but Matthew stopped him again, "We should ask for directions."

"It's not like we'd really be able to understand them."

Matthew tried not to roll his eyes, "yeah, but maybe they'll walk us there."

Alfred grumbled but agreed. The two approached a pair of women selling mangos and watermelon at a stand on the corner. The older one reminded him of a grandmother. Her hair was gray and she had wrinkly hands. The other was a teenage girl.

"Excuse me," Alfred said to them smiling, "Can you help us get to the police?"

The stared at him blankly. Alfred mimicked the sound of a police car, "la policía?"

Their faces lit up then darkened like someone closed the shutters on a window. The younger woman fired off Spanish rapidly while the older woman kept sighing. Alfred looked at Matthew helplessly.

A man came up to the stall and bought a mango while the women spoke. Matthew's stomach grumbled. He had never gotten a chance to eat anything while they were on the train. He walked his fingers up and down the dark green spine of the melon.

"Excuse me!" Alfred interrupted.

Both women stopped talking. Matthew stopped playing with the fruit. Everyone's eyes fixed on Alfred. He wanted to scold Alfred but he felt like his voice had hidden itself away somewhere. Dad taught them better than that.

"Can you," he pointed at them, "walk us," he made his fingers with next to each other, "to la policía?" he finished.

The younger women rolled her eyes and Matthew's stomach clenched. What if they wouldn't take them cause they thought Alfred was rude?

Alfred fidgeted. Matthew kept looking over his shoulder. His eyes swept the crowds looking for their two kidnappers. The younger woman threw up her hands. She pointed at them. Her mother sighed again, but nodded. A kiss was exchanged before the younger woman stepped away from the stall. She gestured to them both.

"Thank you! Gracias," Alfred exclaimed as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

Matthew nodded his thanks. The trio walked down the street. Left, left, straight until the church, right. A terrible smell clung to the air. The girl stopped outside of a two story gray building.

"Here?" Alfred asked, "uhh... aquí?"

"Si," she said, "aquí."

Alfred rambled his thanks, shaking her hand furiously. She blushed and tried to speaking to them again. Matthew couldn't understand Spanish for the life of him. The one word he did understand was no.

He and Alfred looked at each other. Matthew raised his eyebrows at the other boy. Alfred just shrugged.

"Well, thanks for everything, but we really need to get inside soo... uhh adios!" Alfred rambled.

His brother spun and grabbed Mattie's arm. The older boy waved over his shoulder. They walked into the building, shivering from the air conditioner.


	9. Police

Three rows of wide desks lined the room. Police officers in navy uniforms shuffled papers at their desks. Diego stood, watching the office and sipping his coffee. Occasionally a man was escorted through the office in handcuffs.

It'd been a slow day. He was positive the reason for this was because it's Sunday. When he was a child Sundays meant church, big meals and family time. But times had changed and he was lucky if he saw his daughter a handful of times each week. There was always more work to do and he always needed the money.

On the wall was a bulletin board with the police's most wanted criminals. Next to it was a cork board with other important cases. The newest addition was a large flyer with the picture and information of two American boys, Alfred Jones and Matthew Bonnefoy-Kirkland. They were the biggest missing children case in Mexico.

He didn't give the flyer a second glance. It was all over the news. Four days ago two American boys had gone missing from their resort in Cancun while on a family vacation.

What wasn't on the news was yesterday they'd escaped from the Russian Mafia at a hotel in Playa del Carmen. Overnight the Mafia had put out a massive reward out for their recapture and return and, consequently, if any police department hadn't been actively looking for the boys before… they were now.

He returned to his desk. There was paperwork scattered everywhere on it from a traffic accident, two domestic disputes and one drunk and disorderly to take care of. His shoulders sagged. It'd take him all afternoon to finish this.

He'd been scribbling away for several minutes when he noticed the commotion at the front. He wasn't sure what it was about but anything was better than more paperwork.

The young officer spun and stretched in his chair. His muscles pulled. He'd always thought being a police officer would mean more leg work than this. As he was stretching he saw the reception area was crowded with officers.

Curious about the commotion, he wandered over and in the middle the crowd stood two white pre-teen (this may be wrong, but I thought you said the kids were like 10 or 12 years old) boys. Diego rubbed his eyes, positive the long hours had gotten to him and he was hallucinating. The very same boys on the missing poster were in front of him.

The boys were filthy. The blond hair in the posters was more of a muddy brown. Their clothes were torn in several places. A thick air of body odor was also around them. Obviously they hadn't been given deodorant while they were on the run.

Both boys seemed dazed and relieved as the officers around them shouted in excitement. There was talk of bonuses and money. Diego felt his breath catch. Jealous he hadn't been in the front when they arrived.

One of the officers began speaking to them, but they stared in confusion. They probably didn't speak Spanish. The Captain pushed through the crowd.

"Alfred! Matthew!"

The Captain grinned and clapped them both on the shoulder. Both boys shrunk under his hands. Diego had never seen the man smile before, but he was all smiles now.

"Man, am I glad you speak English!" one of the boys chirped, shaking off the hand on his shoulder, "How do you know my name?"

The Captain smiled, "You're very famous," someone handed Alfred a flyer, "You both have been all over the news."

The talkative one gaped and poked to his brother. The flyer was shared between the two of them.

Diego was about to return to his desk when the Captain called out, "Sanchez! Make that call!"

Diego turned around. He wanted to point to himself to make sure, but he just nodded.

The call.

To the mafia.

To get thousands of American dollars.

He _never _would have guessed the Captain to had a soft spot for him. He stumbled back to his desk and picked up the phone. He didn't even realize he'd punched the numbers until he heard it ringing.

"Da?"

"The is Officer Diego Sanchez from the Tlaxcala Police Department."

"Get to the point," the words were hissed.

Diego didn't gulp, "We've found the boys you've been looking for. They are here at the station."

The other end was quiet for a moment, "Excellent. My colleagues will be there to pick them up.

They will give you and your Captain the proper compensation when they arrive." The other man's satisfaction oozed through the phone.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you."

The phone clicked. It took a moment to sink in. He could buy a crib, new baby clothes and diapers to last until Selena was potty trained! Catherine could stop worrying about paying for the groceries and he could stop working such long hours. Diego rubbed his eyes and smiled.

He wobbled out of his chair to let the Captain know the Russians would be arriving soon. They were seated at a table in the conference room devouring leftover black beans and rice. Alfred was poking Matthew and smiling. Diego tried not to look at the boys as he gave the message. He couldn't face the source of his good fortune.

* * *

A long conference table split the room. A wall of windows showed the officers working at their desks. Alfred and Matthew sat with their backs to the wall. The Captain stood across from them. Alfred was devouring the rice and beans that was brought in for them.

Now that he knew he was safe it was like a gate had opened. "And my PSP and my bed and Kiku and..." some rice jumped out of his mouth as he spoke. He flicked it off the table. Matthew was eating quietly next to him.

"Captain?"

A young man in a navy uniform said something to the Captain. Sanchez was embroidered in white on his chest. The man reported about something and for the first time in a long time Alfred wished he hadn't forgotten all the Spanish he used to know.

"Officer Sanchez was able to get through so you boys should be all set in a few hours," the Captain smiled.

Alfred whooped and jumped up. They were going home!

"We're going home! We're going home!" Alfred sang and danced. Matthew was smiling in his chair, but he wasn't nearly excited enough so Alfred pulled him out of his chair. He pulled his brother into a headlock and gave him a noogie.

"What da ya say?"

Squirming Matthew pushed against Alfred's arms. Alfred laughed and dragged him around the room singing, "We're going home!"

After he'd circled the table once Matthew finally laughed, "Uncle! Uncle!"

The Captain interjected, "Do you boys want to lay down for a bit while we wait?"

Matthew reclaimed his seat while Alfred bounced behind his brother's chair.

"No way! I don't think I'd be able to sleep! I'm too revved up!" Alfred grinned. Mattie didn't say anything and Alfred frowned.

Alfred leaned forward, "Do you wanna sleep?" he asked quietly. Something was wrong with his brother but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"Can I talk to my parents?" Matthew asked the Captain.

Alfred blinked. Duh, they could call them! Alfred's vision zeroed in on the Captain.

"Yeah please! Pretty please?" Alfred begged.

"Sure," the Captain said slowly, "what's the number?"

Mattie rattled off their Papa's number. Alfred wiggled. A moment later the Captain sighed, "no answer."

Matthew's shoulders slumped, "can you try my Dad's?"

The Captain repeated the process to the same effect, "Maybethey don't have their cell phones on internationally?"

Alfred pouted. That sucked balls. The Captain chuckled and told them he had to get back to work, but they could get him if they needed anything while they waited.

The boys settled themselves in to wait. Alfred was positive his heart had abandoned him and was driving across the country with their parents. Even though it was only a few hours time dragged. He and Matthew had played rock, paper, scissors for a while then the green glass door and I-spy until it got dark.

Alfred drummed against the table, "boo bah bah booh," he beat boxed.

They were almost home free and it was awesome! Their Papa and Dad were going to come and get them and they'd all go home safe and sound. He could almost feel his Papa's arms around him, Dad muttering about the heat and trying to smooth his hair.

He rubbed his hands back and forth on the table, "erra erra."

"Alfred!" Mattie snapped at him.

Alfred pouted, "You didn't like my song?"

The other boy didn't respond right away. Just when Alfred was going to go back to beat boxing Mattie spoke up.

"Something's going on," Matthew replied softly in French.

Alfred's brow furrowed, "_Quoi_?"

Matthew's voice slid under the office noise, "I don't know. It's just a feeling... we should try to call Papa and Dad again. There is no way their phones are off."

Alfred nodded, "Sure, can't hurt."

"You do that," Mattie raised his eyebrows, "I'm going to walk around."

Matthew slipped out of the room. Alfred chuckled. His brother was really good at eavesdropping. Just outside their room there were several empty desks. Each one had a fantastic phone waiting for him.

Alfred crept towards the desks. He'd get his parents on the phone.

* * *

Matthew lurked next to the coffee machine. A portrait hung on the wall. He stared up at it while his ears tuned in on the officers pouring coffee. They were whispering _in English_.

"-for children."

"-and how can this end well? We'll be in the Mafia's pocket forever after this."

" -not even getting part of the reward."

"Should we call Interpol?"

"What's the worst that can happen?"

Matthew wished he could turn around and look then because it went silent. It was a heavy silence, full of fear. Thoughts and questions raced through his head.

"They never should have come here..."

Everything froze. The phrase echoed in his ears. They never should have come here. Did that mean here to Mexico or here to the police station? It didn't matter. That cemented his decision that something was really wrong and they needed to leave. Immediately.

With a sour stomach, Matthew peeled his back away from the wall. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept his head low. He moved slowly past the desks. Dangling out of the trash was a ripped map of Mexico. Matthew bent down and snagged it. It could be useful in the hours to come.

When Matthew got back to their conference room, Alfred had his head down on the table. Matthew had a sensation of falling even though he wasn't moving at all.

"Did you get a hold of them?" Matthew asked as he slid back into the room.

There was a sniff. Alfred raised his head and Matthew saw that his eyes were red.

"No," Alfred replied.

All the enthusiasm he'd had earlier was gone. Matthew nodded. He'd figured as much.

"We need to go," Mattie stated gently, "I don't think they ever planned on getting us home."

Alfred dropped his head against the table with a thunk.

"I wanna go home," Alfred whispered.

Matthew hugged his brother, "Me too."

The boys were silent for a while. Matthew didn't want to break the silence, but they needed a plan.

Matthew nudged Alfred, "We've gotta be our own heroes."

The words felt flimsy and pathetic to his ears, but Alfred took a deep breath and stared at him with renewed determination. The two boys bent their heads together and planned.

Matthew wished they were at home strategizing how to get junk food into the house. He chuckled to himself as they peered through the windows for emergency exits. That would seem infantile if they ever got to do it again.


End file.
